27 NOVEMBER 1936, Page 13

Landing

HERE drifted flesh, and drowned bone, and unknown Fabulous sea-foliage are washed upon the sand : Here, in this brilliant land, My eyes perceive no shadow but their own. • The moon conspires and swings. The ocean's dearth Is broken with resistance to the shape Of promontory and cape, To the stationary pattern of the earth.

Living and dying here are equal, each Adamantly met and friended. Here my eyes, Perceiving how the final substance dies, Hurry across the margin of the beach, But find the safe boats out of reach.

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