The Sand Piper

Quaint manikin, what bids you keep Such formal distance with your droll Divertisements, the while I stroll In solitude beside the deep? Your mannerisms first suggest A Puritan sedate and prim; Then change you by capricious whim Into a gnome with hooded crest, Or bit of animated foam, Or e’en a cloud wisp drifting by, - What region in the sea or sky Or lonely dune can you call home? Your footsteps mincing gleefully Thread in and out along the verge Embroidering the creamy surge, - Strange little old man of the sea! But in your antic frolicking, Your beak grotesque and solemn eye, Your stilt-like legs, your piping cry, And sudden ecstasies of wing, There is a kinship with the spray Wind driven, and the restless sand, A mingling of the sea and land, The hither and the far away. Blithe atomy, bold Nature’s child Within you pulses glad and free With joyous spontaneity The tameless spirit of the wild!