Of the sea’s relentless and vain endeavors are a pleasant lullaby, here on shore.
Since a little hillock screens yonder ageless, tenacious battlings (which shatter, and pass
In foam and spume), I appraise, half-nodding, much sand and sky and gaunt nodding grass.
And I am content to lie and dream; and I am too drowsy to rise, and see
If it be worth breasting—that ocean yonder, which a little hillock hides from me.
ONE END OF LOVE
“It is long since we met,” she said.
I answered, “Yes.”
She is not fair,
But very old now, and no gold