These wet rocks where the tide has been,
Barnacled white and weeded brown,
And slimed beneath to a beautiful green,
These wet rocks where the tide went down

Will show again when the tide is high,
Faint and perilous, far from shore,
No place to dream, but a place to die,
The bottom of the sea once more.

There was a child that wandered through
A giant's empty house all day.
House full of wonderful things and new --
But no fit place for a child to play.