"the cure of souls." Henry James <br /> <br /> <br />The radiant soda of the seashore fashions <br />Fun, foam and freedom. The sea laves <br />The Shaven sand. And the light sways forward <br />On self-destroying waves. <br /> <br />The rigor of the weekday is cast aside with shoes, <br />With business suits and traffic's motion; <br />The lolling man lies with the passionate sun, <br />Or is drunken in the ocean. <br /> <br />A socialist health take should of the adult, <br />He is stripped of his class in the bathing-suit, <br />He returns to the children digging at summer, <br />A melon-like fruit. <br /> <br />O glittering and rocking and bursting and blue <br />-Eternities of sea and sky shadow no pleasure: <br />Time unheard moves and the heart of man is eaten <br />Consummately at leisure. <br /> <br />The novelist tangential on the boardwalk overhead <br />Seeks his cure of souls in his own anxious gaze. <br />"Here," he says, "With whom?" he asks, "This?" he questions, <br />"What tedium, what blaze?" <br /> <br />"What satisfaction, fruit? What transit, heaven? <br />Criminal? justified? arrived at what June?" <br />That nervous conscience amid the concessions <br />Is haunting, haunted moon.<br /><br />Delmore Schwartz<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/far-rockaway/
