Last of ebb, and daylight waning, Scented sea-cool landward making, smells of sedge and salt incoming, With many a half-caught voice sent up from the eddies, Many a muffled confession -- many a sob and whisper'd word, As of speakers far or hid. How they sweep down and out! how they mutter! Poets unnamed -- artists greatest of any, with cherish'd lost designs, Love's unresponse -- a chorus of age's complaints -- hope's last words, Some suicide's despairing cry, Away to the boundless waste, and never again return. On to oblivion then! On, on, and do your part, ye burying, ebbing tide! On for your time, ye furious debouche! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BROODING GRIEF by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE CHRISTMAS BELLS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW IN STATE by BYRON FORCEYTHE WILLSON A LAY OF ST. GENGULPHUS by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE OUTLAW by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 49. FAREWELL TO JULIET (11) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |