Endlessly ran and fell the waves

Under a tall wind sweeping,

And twisted trees stooped low, nor woke

From day-long silver sleeping.

Up to the lonely dunes I turned,

And the rusty beach-grass bending.

The trees were shadowy still before

The stir of long sleep ending.

Only the sun on leaves, and wind,

And line of slow gulls flying -

Then in the secret wood I heard

Somewhere a woman crying.