XII
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