THE gray waves rock against the gray skyline, And break complaining on the long gray sand, Here where I sit, who cannot understand Their voice of pain, nor this dumb pain of mine; For I, who thought to fare till my days end, Armed sorrow-proof in sorrow, having known How hearts bleed slow when brave lips make no moan, How Life can torture, how Death may befriend When Love entreats him hasten, -- even I, Who feared no human anguish that may be, I cannot bear the loud grief of the sea, I cannot bear the still grief of the sky. |