At A Month’s End


The night last night was strange and shaken:
More strange the change of you and me.
Once more, for the old love’s love forsaken,
We went out once more toward the sea.
For the old love’s love-sake dead and buried,
One last time, one more and no more,
We watched the waves set in, the serried
Spears of the tide storming the shore.
Hardly we saw the high moon hanging,
Heard hardly through the windy night
Far waters ringing, low reefs clanging,
Under wan skies and waste white light.
With chafe and change of surges chiming,
The clashing channels rocked and rang
Large music, wave to wild wave timing,
And all the choral water sang.
Faint lights fell this way, that way floated,
Quick sparks of sea-fire keen like eyes
From the rolled surf that flashed, and noted
Shores and faint cliffs and bays and skies.
The ghost of sea that shrank up sighing
At the sand’s edge, a short sad breath
Trembling to touch the goal, and dying
With weak heart heaved up once in death–
The rustling sand and shingle shaken
With light sweet touches and small sound–
These could not move us, could not waken
Hearts to look forth, eyes to look round.
Silent we went an hour together,
Under grey skies by waters white.
Our hearts were full of windy weather,
Clouds and blown stars and broken light.
Full of cold clouds and moonbeams drifted
And streaming storms and straying fires,
Our souls in us were stirred and shifted
By doubts and dreams and foiled desires.
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