'The sun is at rest--for the storms are o'er;
Just touch'd with the hand of night,
And a line of shadow creeps to the shore,
Then flashes in silver light--
'Like a note that stops in its flight and droops,
And clings for a while to the ground;
Then trembles and wakes from its trance and breaks
Into passion and glory of sound.'
How entirely true are these to the breaking of a smooth, pale expanse of
water into motion and light; the sudden flashing as of a million spears
with which the sea, when smitten by the sword of the Sun, rises to the
challenge of Morning. And yet by what simple and common words this
strong effect is produced!