A desert of weed and water-darkened stone under my western windows The ebb lasted all afternoon, And many pieces of humanity, men, women, and children, gathering shellfish, Swarmed with voices of gulls the sea-breach. At twilight they went off together, the verge was left vacant, an evening heron Bent broad wings over the black ebb, And left me wondering why a lone bird was dearer to me than many people. Well: rare is dear: but also I suppose Well reconciled with the world but not with our own natures we grudge to see them Reflected on the world for a mirror.SourceThe script ran 0.002 seconds.
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