And on the lip’s edge of the down,
Here where the bent-grass burns to brown
    In the dry sea-wind, and the heath
Crawls to the cliff-side and looks down,
    I watch, and hear beneath
        The low tide breathe.

Along the long lines of the cliff,
Down the flat sea-line without skiff
    Or sail or back-blown fume for mark,
Through wind-worn heads of heath and stiff
    Stems blossomless and stark
        With dry sprays dark,

I send mine eyes out as for news
Of comfort that all these refuse,
    Tidings of light or living air
From windward where the low clouds muse
    And the sea blind and bare
        Seems full of care.

So is it now as it was then,
And as men have been such are men.
    There as I stood I seem to stand,
Here sitting chambered, and again
    Feel spread on either hand
        Sky, sea, and land.

As a queen taken and stripped and bound
Sat earth, discoloured and discrowned;
    As a king’s palace empty and dead
The sky was, without light or sound;
    And on the summer’s head
        Were ashes shed.

Scarce wind enough was on the sea,
Scarce hope enough there moved in me,
    To sow with live blown flowers of white
The green plain’s sad serenity,
    Or with stray thoughts of light
        Touch my soul’s sight.

By footless ways and sterile went
My thought unsatisfied, and bent
    With blank unspeculative eyes
On the untracked sands of discontent
    Where, watched of helpless skies,
        Life hopeless lies.

East and west went my soul to find
Light, and the world was bare and blind
    And the soil herbless where she trod
And saw men laughing scourge mankind,
    Unsmitten by the rod
        Of any God.

Out of time’s blind old eyes were shed
Tears that were mortal, and left dead
    The heart and spirit of the years,
And on mans fallen and helmless head
    Time’s disanointing tears
        Fell cold as fears.

Hope flowering had but strength to bear
The fruitless fruitage of despair;
    Grief trod the grapes of joy for wine,
Whereof love drinking unaware
    Died as one undivine
        And made no sign.

And soul and body dwelt apart;
And weary wisdom without heart
    Stared on the dead round heaven and sighed,
“Is death too hollow as thou art,
    Or as man’s living pride?”
        And saying so died.

And my soul heard the songs and groans
That are about and under thrones,
    And felt through all time’s murmur thrill
Fate’s old imperious semitones
    That made of good and ill
        One same tune still.

Then “Where is God? and where is aid?
Or what good end of these?” she said;
    “Is there no God or end at all,
Nor reason with unreason weighed,
    Nor force to disenthral
        Weak feet that fall?

“No light to lighten and no rod
To chasten men? Is there no God?”
    So girt with anguish, iron-zoned,
Went my soul weeping as she trod
    Between the men enthroned
        And men that groaned.

O fool, that for brute cries of wrong
Heard not the grey glad mother’s song
    Ring response from the hills and waves,
But heard harsh noises all day long
    Of spirits that were slaves
        And dwelt in graves.

The wise word of the secret earth
Who knows what life and death are worth,
    And how no help and no control
Can speed or stay things come to birth,
    Nor all worlds’ wheels that roll
        Crush one born soul.

With all her tongues of life and death,
With all her bloom and blood and breath,
    From all years dead and all things done,
In the ear of man the mother saith,
    “There is no God, O son,
        If thou be none.”

So my soul sick with watching heard
That day the wonder of that word,
    And as one springs out of a dream
Sprang, and the stagnant wells were stirred
    Whence flows through gloom and gleam
        Thought’s soundless stream.

Out of pale cliff and sunburnt health,
Out of the low sea curled beneath
    In the land’s bending arm embayed,
Out of all lives that thought hears breathe
    Life within life inlaid,
        Was answer made.

A multitudinous monotone
Of dust and flower and seed and stone,
    In the deep sea-rock’s mid-sea sloth,
In the live water’s trembling zone,
    In all men love and loathe,
        One God at growth.

One forceful nature uncreate
That feeds itself with death and fate,
    Evil and good, and change and time,
That within all men lies at wait
    Till the hour shall bid them climb
        And live sublime.

For all things come by fate to flower
At their unconquerable hour,
    And time brings truth, and truth makes free,
And freedom fills time’s veins with power,
    As, brooding on that sea,
        My thought filled me.

And the sun smote the clouds and slew,
And from the sun the sea’s breath blew,
    And white waves laughed and turned and fled
The long green heaving sea-field through,
    And on them overhead
        The sky burnt red

Like a furled flag that wind sets free,
On the swift summer-coloured sea
    Shook out the red lines of the light,
The live sun’s standard, blown to lee
    Across the live sea’s white
        And green delight.

And with divine triumphant awe
My spirit moved within me saw,
    With burning passion of stretched eyes,
Clear as the light’s own firstborn law,
    In windless wastes of skies
        Time’s deep dawn rise.