WHEN the tide came surging in
To the beach it bore
Drift-wood and brown weeds '
These ' and nothing more!
As the stranded weeds and wood
Borne by the sea,
Tossed at the wind's will,
Even so are we!
When the tide went out again
From the beach, it bore
Drift-wood and brown weeds '
These ' and nothing more!
Little peace is ours indeed,
Little rest we know '
Weeds at the Tide's will
Tossed to and fro!