Faint Message

This world, the chalice, held briefly the day,

Folded around it, knew with its wind the wall

Where I walked and met Alice, who has gone away.

We liked the day, the wall, the wind around it all,

And we stood by the sea looking up far

Over the sharp edge where the islands fall

Tumbled a thousand miles. By the war

We parted, by its margin, and I have fallen

Down the war's flung sharp island years

To a shoal where I am pinned under debris:-

Ulysses' heavy bow, continents in tears,

And the cynical wind over the despondent sea.