Page:Three Plays Sunderland Hills.pdf/152

Rh More iris-hued their neck, more coralline The little feet that follow where she goes, This Stranger-Lady, pilgrim from the sea, Around whose galley, day-long, dolphins play!

Aye, sea-gulls who at starkest winter-tide Still shun the inland neighbourhood of man, Come idly circling all the noonday through, And shake with wings aslant the rose-leaves down Upon their Siren-Mistress!

The lagoon Warmer and bluer growing at every tide Bears from the open ocean to our shore A sand more silver, amber and ambergris. Treasure of rosy-hued or emerald weed, Dyed with intenser colour, fairer shells