  SCREAMED the far sea-mew. On the mirroring sands Bell-shrill the oyster-catchers. Burned the sky. Couching my cheeks upon my sun-scorched hands, Down from bare rock I gazed. The sea swung by. Dazzling dark blue and verdurous, quiet with snow, Empty with loveliness, with music a-roar, Her billowing summits heaving noon-aglow— Crashed the Atlantic on the cliff-ringed shore, Drowsed by the tumult of that moving deep, Sense into outer silence fainted, fled; And rising softly, from the fields of sleep, Stole to my eyes a lover from the dead; Crying an incantation—learned, Where? When?... White swirled the foam, a fount, a blinding gleam Of ice-cold breast, cruel eyes, wild mouth—and then A still dirge echoing on from dream to dream.
|
|
