"
"I have no delight in it," said she; but with that she sighed.
"The ways of life are straight like the grooves of launching," said
the man; and he took her by the hand.
"And what shall we do with the horseshoe?" quoth she.
"I will give it to your father," said the man; "and he can make a
kirk and a mill of it for me."
It came to pass in time that the Poor Thing was born; but memory of
these matters slept within him, and he knew not that which he had
done. But he was a part of the eldest son; rejoicing manfully to
launch the boat into the surf, skilful to direct the helm, and a
man of might where the ring closes and the blows are going.
XX. - THE SONG OF THE MORROW.
THE King of Duntrine had a daughter when he was old, and she was
the fairest King's daughter between two seas; her hair was like
spun gold, and her eyes like pools in a river; and the King gave
her a castle upon the sea beach, with a terrace, and a court of the
hewn stone, and four towers at the four corners. Here she dwelt
and grew up, and had no care for the morrow, and no power upon the
hour, after the manner of simple men.
It befell that she walked one day by the beach of the sea, when it
was autumn, and the wind blew from the place of rains; and upon the
one hand of her the sea beat, and upon the other the dead leaves
ran.
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