The grey-green stretch of sandy grass,
Indefinitely desolate;
A sea of lead, a sky of slate;
Already autumn in the air, alas!
One stark monotony of stone,
The long hotel, acutely white,
Against the after-sunset light
Withers grey-green, and takes the grass's tone.
Listless and endless it outlies,
And means, to you and me, no more
Than any pebble on the shore,
Or this indifferent moment as it dies.
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Comments
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It is so thrilling to know he is talking about Dieppe. I was there last summer and felt this exact feeling and wrote about it. This is the kind of thing that answers an ineffable longing, finding a connection like this.
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Calm and down to earth; this is one of those classic pieces that make one appreciate the beauty of writing. I wish I could have been outside when I read this, it makes me feel like there shoudl have been a breeze.
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How inspiring! I am a babe in the woods for classics, and am finding your daily poems salve for the muse in me. Thanks for the daily poetry. I really appreciate it.
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It was just beautiful can you send me poems they are so lovely
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