Striding by an ancient sea I imitate the surf at play And leave with every careless step An image of my passing way. Every here and every there I stop and kneel over the sand And build high walls to fight the tide With sweaty brow and steady hands. When twilight comes before the night I turn to gaze on where I’ve been On all the things I touched and built And all the things I thought I’d seen. There before my straining eyes In the final nightfall’s sweet delight