Yet A Little Longer

Loud-voiced tormentor of this naked land, Whelming with cataract floods the patient strand, And you, lean rocks, that, lying out to sea, In its grey wash slumber eternally, I am your comrade for a little space, A little longer while God gives me grace, While the uplifted arrows hovering stay, And night and day for me are night and day. A few more months or years, and yon vast sea Whose tides know nought of personality, Engulf me; Me! beside whose deeps you stand Like the least lakelet of yon lake-strewn land. I am so rare, so strange, nor faun nor fay Can match me, yet my tale is “every-day,” Almost too slight to utter! Meanwhile we Watch these late hours together silently.