From the Cliffs: Noon.
- The sea is in its listless chime:
- Time's lapse it is, made audible,--
The murmur of the earth's large shell.
- In a sad blueness beyond rhyme
- It ends: sense, without thought, can pass
No stadium further. Since time was,
- This sound hath told the lapse of time.
- No stagnance that death wins, -- it hath
- The mournfulness of ancient life,
Always enduring at dull strife.
- As the world's heart of rest and wrath,
- Its painful pulse is in the sands.
Last utterly, the whole sky stands,
- Grey and not known, along its path.
Last modified 5/22/95