My friend, I need thee in good days or ill,
    I need the counsel of thy larger thought;
   And I would question all the year has brought—
   What spoil of books, what victories of will;
But most I long for the old wordless thrill,
   When on the shore, like children picture-taught,
   We watched each miracle the sweet day wrought,
   While the tide ebbed, and every wind was still.
Dear, let it be again as if we mused,
   We two, with never need of spoken word
   (While the sea’s fingers twined among the dulse,
And gulls dipped near), our spirits seeming fused
   In the great Life that quickens wave and bird,
   Our hearts in happy rhythm with the world-pulse.

^{March 30, 1889}