If you should look for this place after a handful <br /> of lifetimes: <br />Perhaps of my planted forest a few <br />May stand yet, dark-leaved Australians or the coast <br /> cypress, haggard <br />With storm-drift; but fire and the axe are devils. <br />Look for foundations of sea-worn granite, my fingers <br /> had the art <br />To make stone love stone, you will find some remnant. <br />But if you should look in your idleness after ten <br /> thousand years: <br />It is the granite knoll on the granite <br />And lava tongue in the midst of the bay, by the mouth <br /> of the Carmel <br />River-valley, these four will remain <br />In the change of names. You will know it by the wild <br /> sea-fragrance of wind <br />Though the ocean may have climbed or retired a little; <br />You will know it by the valley inland that our sun <br /> and our moon were born from <br />Before the poles changed; and Orion in December <br />Evenings was strung in the throat of the valley like <br /> a lamp-lighted bridge. <br />Come in the morning you will see white gulls <br />Weaving a dance over blue water, the wane of the moon <br />Their dance-companion, a ghost walking <br />By daylight, but wider and whiter than any bird in <br /> the world. <br />My ghost you needn't look for; it is probably <br />Here, but a dark one, deep in the granite, not <br /> dancing on wind <br />With the mad wings and the day moon. <br /> <br /> <br />Submitted by Holt<br /><br />Robinson Jeffers<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tor-house/
