noon
Frida watched how proud they were , and how they kept their strong wings sailing and their gray backs flat and quivering , while with buoyant bosom each made circles round the other . As she watched , she saw the turning of the tide below them . The streaky bends of curdled water , lately true as fairy-rings , stopped and wavered , and drew inward on their flowing curves , and outward on the side toward the ebb . Then the south wind brought the distant toll of her father 's turret-clock , striking noon with slow deliberation and dead certainty . Frida made one little turn toward her bower behind the cliff , where the many sweet words spoken drew her to this last of hope . All was silent . There was no one Now was the time to go home at last .