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SEINING. The broadened flats go glimmering to the sea, And the great net that struggled with the tide Hangs dark and moveless, for the winds have died ; On high the circling gulls cry ceaselessly. A horse goes slowly sinking to the knee In the red earth, dragging with dart and glide The mud-boat after on the trackless, wide Shore level to the sein's day fishery. Again, beneath the stars down by the seas. Dark, sobbing tide- waves sHp through span on span Of net, quick bared and curving like a wing. Night labor now companioned by the breeze, The glowing lantern glides to where for man The harvest of the sea is garnering. 99
