Ii

Night is above me ... And Night is above the night. Rocks are about me, and, beyond, the sand ... And the low reluctant tide, That rushes back to ebb a last farewell To the flotsam borne so long upon its breast. Rocks.... But the tide is out, And the slime lies naked, like a thing ashamed That has no hiding-place. And the sea-bird hushes-- The bird and all far cries within my blood-- And earth as a somnambulist moves on.