LES CASQUETS.
83
Too full, she said, was the world of trouble,
Too dense with noise of contentious things,
And shows less bright than the blithe foam's bubble
As home she fared on the smooth wind's wings.
For joy grows loftier in air more lonely,
Where only the sea's brood fain would be;
Where only the heart may receive in it only
The love of the heart of the sea.
