Memory is a quiet thing

Lipping at the edge of mind,

Nor even murmuring

Of all the sea behind.

We do not think it strange

The furious noise of wave

Should be with sudden change

Cool water in a cave,

Where the bugles of the wind,

And the green charging roar

Diminish and are thinned,

Till they sound no more.

But even the longest breaker

Here at last will come,

With the loudest wind, its maker,

And both lie dumb.