Читать книгу No One Can Stem the Tide - Jane Tyson Clement - Страница 11

6

THE INLAND HEART

The wind is singing on the sun-struck dunes;

eastward the wind blows, and the level sea

runs with shadows golden-green and dark;

and no gull cries nearby, but far away

where the black finger of the rocks is laid

the white wings flash, the voices flash, and far

across the moving stretch a white sail gleams.

Here I am lost, hedged in with hills and shade;

and the bright music ripples all day long –

thrush and vireo, and in the dark

the harsh cicada; and my soul must fail,

starve for the sudden, final thrust of sea

over the earth’s curve, for the steady sun

that now the hills devour when day is done.