Nostalgia

With restless feet

The waves retreat,

And then advance and fall

Like crumpled lace

Across the face

Of the seaweed covered wall.

Along the creek

Wild seagulls shriek;

White gleams twixt sea and sky.

Brown nets, homespun,

Their day's work done

Are spread in the wind to dry.

High on the beach,

Out of the reach

Of the ocean's leaden hands,

The empty boats

And scattered floats

Lie mute on the desolate sands.

With lagging gait

I meditate

The poignance of life's span.

The dusk hangs low,

The night clouds grow,

What cares this earth for man?

 

(1938/39)