Page:Collected poems of Rupert Brooke.djvu/39

 SEASIDE

Swiftly out from the friendly lilt of the band,

The crowd's good laughter, the loved eyes of men,

I am drawn nightward; I must turn again

Where, down beyond the low untrodden strand,

There curves and glimmers outward to the unknown

The old unquiet ocean. All the shade

Is rife with magic and movement. I stray alone

Here on the edge of silence, half afraid,

Waiting a sign. In the deep heart of me

The sullen waters swell towards the moon,

And all my tides set seaward.

From inland

Leaps a gay fragment of some mocking tune,

That tinkles and laughs and fades along the sand,

And dies between the seawall and the sea.