Poem by Edwin John Dove Pratt

The Morning Plunge

Clean-limbed and arrowy he shot his way
Into the crystal waters of the bay;
Full thirty-feet below the derrick's beam,
As a lithe salmon, leaping from a stream
Hangs, instant-poised, then arches for the plunge,
Driving with lightning fin a dexterous lunge
Down to his haunts, and trails, enwreathed in mists,
A flock of garnets chasing amethysts.

1. The Flood Tide
2. The Ground-Swell
3. The Ice-Floes
4. The Toll of the Bells
5. The Pine Tree

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