Not to stop beside the sea, 

Like a broken wave that skips

A beat when the current is too free 

And tides too forceful in the rips,

When even long ago 

It was more than I could bear,

No trundling day more slow

Or clouds more growing in the air,

No sun more low, no rustling thatch 

More orange with the sky, or shade

More lime with sea, when passions catch 

On breezes, on islands splayed

With beaches salted by the fog,

Pitching in the surf like spray 

Whose leaping omens slog

Across the tail end of the day,

When the wreathing haze on thistle

Swirls and thickens with the sound

Of the trade wind's warning whistle

Washing round and round,

Would be able to say that darkening shores 

Unearth better worlds than this,

The palms as loud as meteors

Or the light lips of a kiss

Beside which it would be just a lie

Not to linger, love, and die.


Waikiki, July 10th, 2003

Duke's Beach

Redone August 19th and 20th, 2003