Do you remember that long twilight? grey
Unending sand, a low grey sky, a wall
Of grey low cliffs, the sea against: the sand
Flat, coloured like the sand, white at the edge,
And now and then a shouldering wave that rose
Long, black, like a ship's hull seen sideways. Grey
As the monotonous days of life, when each
Copies the day it follows, grey and still
In such a bleak repose, as if it slept
Tired out of hope, the sand lay endlessly.
We walked upon the sand, and heard the sea
Whimpering, in a little lonely voice,
And there was always sand and sea and sky,
Making a quietude of emptiness.
Do you remember?
Such a quietude
As fire might drowse to, when its ashes burn.
It was the slumber of a violent life,
It filled me with the peace of energy.
It filled me with the helplessness of things,
Intolerable days, intolerable hours,
The level, endless, dust-grey sand of things;
The sand slides back under our travelling feet,
Our feet labour, and there is still the sand
Infinitely before us, indefinitely
Behind us, the same sand and sea and sky.
I was content: I saw no emptiness;
The blood was busy in my veins; I felt
All the young heat and colour of my blood
Fill up the hour with joy: a pause of life
Spoke to me in the greyness of the hour.
I can fill every hour with my own heats
And colour all the hours of life with joy.
You; but I take my colour from the hour,
And all my hours of life are like this sand,
And I am tired of treading down the hours.
