From the Cliffs (Germ3©10)

From the Cliffs: Noon.

The sea is in its listless chime:: Time's lapse it is, made audible,--
The murmur of the earth's large shell.
In a sad blueness beyond rhyme: It ends: sense, without thought, can pass
No stadium further. Since time was,
This sound hath told the lapse of time.
No stagnance that death wins, -- it hath: The mournfulness of ancient life,
Always enduring at dull strife.
As the world's heart of rest and wrath,: Its painful pulse is in the sands.
Last utterly, the whole sky stands,
Grey and not known, along its path.

Last modified 5/22/95