At sunset my foot outreached the mounting Pacific's Last swirl as tide climbed, and I stood On the mile-empty beach and the dune-lands. Turned then, and saw Beyond knotting fog-clots, how Chinaward now The sun, a dirty pink smudge, grow larger, smokier, Flatter. Then sank. Through sand yet sun-hot, I made to my landmark - A gray cairn to guard duck pants (not white now), old drawers. Old sneakers, T-shirt, and my wallet, no treasure At dune-foot, I dressed, Eyes westward, sea graying, one gull at Great height, but not white-bright, the last Smudge of sun being gone. So I stood and I thought how my years, a thin trickle Of sand-grains? - years I could then Count on fewer than fingers and toes - had led me Again and again to this lonesome spot where the sea Might, in mania howl, or calm, lure me out Till the dunes were profiled in a cloud-pale line, nothing more, Though the westering sun lured me on. But beachward by sunset, drawn back By the suction of years yet to come - So dressed now, I wandered the sand, drifting on Toward lights of the city in distance, and pondered The vague name of Time, that trickled like sand, and was life. But suppose, after all the sorrow and joy, after all Love and hate, excitement and roaming, failure, success, And grains that had long trickled past And now certainly could not Be readily counted on fingers and toes - suppose I should rise from the sea as of old in my nakedness, Find my cairn, find my clothes, and in gathering fog, Wander toward the lights of the city of men, what answer at last Could I give my old questions? Unless, When the fog closed in I simply lay down, on the sand supine, and up Into grayness stared, and staring, Saw your face, slow, take shape Like a dream that all years had moved to. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN PICCADILLY by ISAAC ROSENBERG SONNET (6) by GEORGE SANTAYANA A,B,C by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY THE CONVERGENCE OF THE TWAIN; LINES ON LOSS OF THE TITANIC by THOMAS HARDY CHANGED by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TO A GENTLEMAN & LADY ON THE DEATH ... CHILD NAMED AVIS by PHILLIS WHEATLEY |