The Secret Splendour

With arms that curve to a garland of brief foam

And crumble in the very joy of clinging,

The enormous strengths and majesties surge home;

They yearn with music and they part with singing:

No passionate grasp on goals of blue endeavour

Shackles the laughter and the liberty

Winning by cool erosion rocks for ever

To the infinite self-forge fulness of sea.

A rapturous unconcern, a worship-will

Unmarred by lust that makes the conqueror slave,

 Their hands of moon-love gather but to spill

Victory as pure libation through each wave.

4.2.37

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