Classic Poem

Where the beach is flat and flowing,
Wavelets coming, wavelets going,
There the small Mer-children play,
In silver night, in golden day,—
They need never go away.

As we love the sight of ocean,
Sound and color, light and motion,
All mer-children, understand,
Love the stretches of warm sand—
Dearly love to play on land.

As each earth-born son and daughter
Loves the feeling of the water,
Rippling, rolling, here and there,
Over small feet brown and bare—
So the Mer-child loves the air.

Large ones catch the tails of small ones,
Little ones trip up the tall ones,
Diving swiftly out of reach,
Laughing gaily each to each,
Playing on the breezy beach.