Thinking of land that lies behind me now,

I stand alone beside the thundering shore

And hear the world. The long low arch of days

That pressed upon my heart is sky once more.

For miles the tireless surf spills in the sun.

Far overhead and out, a single bird

Drifts down a slope of wind, as black on white

As stillness broken with a sudden word.

Here on the sea-beach there is room to stand,

Light to remember by, to want again.

Hard by the shore I shout in freshening wind:

Later I'm taller than the inland men.