BETWEEN the sandhills and the sea br A narrow strip of silver sand, br Whereon a little maid doth stand, br Who picks up shells continually br Between the sandhills and the sea. br br Far as her wondering eyes can reach br A Vastness, heaving grey in grey br To the frayed edges where the day br Furls his red standard on the breach, br Between the skyline and the beach. br br The waters of the flowing tide br Cast up the seapink shells and weed; br She toys with shells, and doth not heed br The ocean, which on every side br Is closing round her vast and wide. br br It creeps her way as if in play, br Pink shells at her pink feet to cast; br But now the wild waves hold her fast, br And bear her off and melt away br A Vastness heaving gray in gray.