As The Inhastening Tide Doth Roll, Dear And Desired, Along The Whole Wide Shining Strand, And Floods The Caves, Your Love Comes Filling With Happy Waves The Open Sea-Shore Of My Soul. But Inland From The Seaward Spaces, None Knows, Not Even You, The Places Brimmed, At Your Coming, Out Of Sight, --The Little Solitudes Of Delight This Tide Constrains In Dim Embraces. You See The Happy Shore, Wave-Rimmed, But Know Not Of The Quiet Dimmed Rivers Your Coming Floods And Fills, The Little Pools 'Mid Happier Hills, My Silent Rivulets, Over-Brimmed. What, I Have Secrets From You? Yes. But, Visiting Sea, Your Love Doth Press And Reach In Further Than You Know, And Fills All These; And When You Go, There'S Loneliness In Loneliness.