by COMAN LEAVENWORTH
THIS world the sea cast up on the rock
(Six hours up and six hours back)
Under a mountain found by gulls
And crowned by the bones of barnacles
Is steeped as long in the sun at noon
As worlds that endure from moon to moon.
The weed stands up from its ocean bed
As gallantly as its fathers did;
The banners it raises still and bright
Are locked in a wilderness of light.
Everything seems at peace, in love,
And even the snails forget to move.
But over the mountain thunders the sea,
The sea that gave and can take away,
And some must be drowned and thrown ashore
To know each crevice, each rock, each hour
Sees new standards, fresh flags unfurled,
And each six hours another world.