I TOOK the crazy short-cut to the bay; Over a fence or two and through a hedge, Jumping a private road, along the edge Of backyards full of drying wash it lay. I ran, electric with elation, Sweating, impetuous and wild For a swift plunge in the sea that smiled, Quiet and luring, half a mile away. This was the final thrill, the last sensation That capped four hours of violence and laughter: To have, with casual friends and casual jokes, Hard sport, a cold swim and fresh linen after . . . And now, the last set being played and over, I hurried past the ruddy lakes of clover; I swung my racket at astonished oaks, My arm still tingling from aggressive strokes. Tennis was over for the day -- I took the leaping short-cut to the bay. Then the swift plunge into the cool, green dark -- The windy waters rushing past me, through me: Filled with a sense of some heroic lark, Exulting in a vigor clean and roomy. Swiftly I rose to meet the feline sea That sprang upon me with a hundred claws, And grappled, pulled me down and played with me. Then, tense and breathless in the tightening pause When one wave grows into a toppling acre, I dived headlong into the foremost breaker, Pitting against a cold and turbulent strife The feverish intensity of life. Out of the foam I lurched and rode the wave, Swimming, hand over hand, against the wind; I felt the sea's vain pounding, and I grinned Knowing I was its master, not its slave. Oh, the proud total of those lusty hours -- The give and take of rough and vigorous tussles With happy sinews and rejoicing muscles; The knowledge of my own miraculous powers, Feeling the force in one small body bent To curb and tame this towering element. Back on the curving beach I stood again, Facing the bath-house, when a group of men, Stumbling beneath some sort of weight, went by. I could not see the hidden thing they carried; I only heard: "He never gave a cry" -- "Who's going to tell her?" -- "Yes, and they just married" -- "Such a good swimmer, too." . . . And then they passed; Leaving the silence throbbing and aghast. A moment there my buoyant heart hung slack, And then the glad, barbaric blood came back Singing a livelier tune; and in my pulse Beat the great wave that surges and exults. . . . Why I was there and whither I must go I did not care. Enough for me to know The same unresting struggle and the glowing Beauty of spendthrift hours, bravely showing Life, an adventure perilous and gay; And Death, a long and vivid holiday. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SPINNING SONG by JOHN FRANCIS O'DONNELL IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 5 by ALFRED TENNYSON CURIOUSLY EVANESCENT by EVA K. ANGLESBURG THE INCURABLE; A SONG by PHILIP AYRES IN MEMORIAM, A.H. by MAURICE BARING THE LAST MAN: SWEET TO DIE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES TAKE YOUR CHOICE: AND BLISS CARMAN by BERTON BRALEY |