3.
And the wastes of the wild sea-marches
Where the borderers are matched in their
might—
Bleak fens that the sun’s weight parches,
Dense waves that reject his light—
Change under the change-coloured arches
Of changeless morning and night
4.
The waves are as ranks enrolled
Too close for the storm to sever:
The fens lie naked and cold,
But their heart fails utterly never:
The lists are set from of old,
And the warfare endureth for ever.
III.
1.
Miles, and miles, and miles of desolation!
Leagues on leagues on leagues without
a change!
Sign or token of some eldest nation
Here would make the strange land not so
strange.
Time-forgotten, yea since time’s creation,
Seem these borders where the sea-birds
range.
2.
Slowly, gladly, full of peace and wonder
Grows his heart who journeys here alone.
Earth and all its thoughts of earth sink under
Deep as deep in water sinks a stone.
Hardly knows it if the rollers thunder,
Hardly whence the lonely wind is blown.
3.
Tall the plumage of the rush-flower tosses,
Sharp and soft in many a curve and line
Gleam and glow the sea-coloured marsh-mosses,
Salt and splendid from the circling brine.
Streak on streak of glimmering seashine crosses
All the land sea-saturate as with wine.
4.
Far, and far between, in divers orders,
Clear grey steeples cleave the low grey
sky;
Fast and firm as time-unshaken warders,
Hearts made sure by faith, by hope made
high.
These alone in all the wild sea-borders
Fear no blast of days and nights that
die.
5.
All the land is like as one man’s face is,
Pale and troubled still with change of
cares.
Doubt and death pervade her clouded spaces:
Strength and length of life and peace
are theirs;
Theirs alone amid these weary places.
Seeing not how the wild world frets and
fares.
6.
Firm and fast where all is cloud that changes
Cloud-clogged sunlight, cloud by sunlight
thinned,
Stern and sweet, above the sand-hill ranges
Watch the towers and tombs of men that
sinned
Once, now calm as earth whose only change is
Wind, and light, and wind, and cloud,
and wind.
7.
Out and in and out the sharp straits wander,
In and out and in the wild way strives,
Starred and paved and lined with flowers that squander
Gold as golden as the gold of hives,
Salt and moist and multiform: but yonder,
See, what sign of life or death survives?
8.
Seen then only when the songs of olden
Harps were young whose echoes yet endure,
Hymned of Homer when his years were golden,
Known of only when the world was pure,
Here is Hades, manifest, beholden,
Surely, surely here, if aught be sure!