In the cradle of ocean surges
  We rock to heart’s content. 
  We’ve played on countless beaches
  And roam the sea’s extent.

1st Kelpie—­
  The sights that we view on our travels
  Are marvels that fill with delight;
  But chief is the phosphorescence
  Of the foaming seas, at night.

Paolo—­
  I wish you would tell of those flashes
  That are such a wonderful sight.

    Phosphorescence

1st Kelpie—­
  Sparkling and darkling, dust of the milky way,
  Shifting and drifting, firefly legions at play;
  Fading and glowing, lights of a starry maze,
  Coming and going, drift of a luminous haze.

  Tangling and spangling the waves with a wealth of light,
  Spraying and straying silently through the night;
  Dusting and flashing a light in our yeasty wake,
  Glowing and splashing wherever the waves we break.

  Lacing and tracing the path of the evening breeze,
  Blazing and raising a light on the breaking seas;
  Ebbing and flowing, an ocean of liquid light,
  Finding and showing the reefs in the blackest night.

Paolo—­
  There’s much in what you say appeals to me;
  What else may you have learned along the margin of the sea?

1st Kelpie—­
  There is a cove, secret from passing eyes,
  Beautiful as a dream of Paradise;
  Where, sheltered from the stormy waves that stray
  Unfettered down the sea’s wide open way,
  The seaman oftentimes doth moor his barque
  In shaded bays, peaceful by day or dark. 
  For there the salty tide finds calm repose,
  Sheltered from every boisterous wind that blows;
  And ripples, like faint shadows on a glass,
  Play lightly where the fitful breezes pass. 
  Elsewhere the mirrored shores inverted stand,
  Trees foot to foot, hand clasping hand;
  And all the flitting clouds their faces see,
  Till sea and sky seem one in harmony. 
  In that well guarded spot few sounds intrude
  To mar the quiet of its solitude. 
  The beat of surges at the entrance seems
  A distant murmur from the land of dreams;
  While crickets chirruping and song birds gay,
  From valley and from hillside sound their lay.

  Four miles of coastline do those arms surround
  Of cliff and delta, wood and open ground;
  Where stately fir and cedar trees are seen
  In contrast with the lighter shades of green;
  While on the rocks thick moss and lichen grow,
  And rough arbutus shrubs their shadows throw.

  When sunset edges all the clouds with gold,
  And sea and shore with jewelled wealth untold,
  Those rocky cliffs a fitting setting form
  To hold that gem of ocean (safe in storm);
  And changing lights, warm and elusive, wear
  To match the shading of the sea and air.

  A maid lives there, who often roams this way;
  We’re here to greet her when she comes to-day.