‘At the Tide’s Will’

Roderic Quinn

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!