Читать книгу Poems New and Old - John Freeman - Страница 5

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Like the tide—knocking at the hollowed cliff

And running into each green cave as if

In the cave's night to keep

Eternal motion grave and deep;—

That, even while each broken wave repeats

Its answered knocking and with bruised hand beats

Again, again, again,

Tossed between ecstasy and pain;

Still in the folded hollow darkness swells,

Sinks, swells, and every green-hung hollow fills,

Till there's no room for sound

Save that old anger rolled around;

So into every hollow cliff of life,

Into this heart's deep cave so loud with strife,

In tunnels I knew not,

In lightless labyrinths of thought,

The unresting tide has run and the dark filled,

Even the vibration of old strife is stilled;

The wave returning bears

Muted those time-breathing airs.

—How shall the million-footed tide still tread

These hollows and in each cold void cave spread?

How shall Love here keep

Eternal motion grave and deep?