I

They say there is no hope-- Sand--drift--rocks--rubble of the sea-- The broken hulk of a ship, Hung with shreds of rope, Pallid under the cracked pitch.

They say there is no hope To conjure you-- No whip of the tongue to anger you-- No hate of words You must rise to refute.

They say you are twisted by the sea, You are cut apart By wave-break upon wave-break, That you are misshapen by the sharp rocks, Broken by the rasp and after-rasp.

That you are cut, torn, mangled, Torn by the stress and beat, No stronger than the strips of sand Along your ragged beach.