We lying by seasand, watching yellow <br />And the grave sea, mock who deride <br />Who follow the red rivers, hollow <br />Alcove of words out of cicada shade, <br />For in this yellow grave of sand and sea <br />A calling for colour calls with the wind <br />That's grave and gay as grave and sea <br />Sleeping on either hand. <br />The lunar silences, the silent tide <br />Lapping the still canals, the dry tide-master <br />Ribbed between desert and water storm, <br />Should cure our ills of the water <br />With a one-coloured calm; <br />The heavenly music over the sand <br />Sounds with the grains as they hurry <br />Hiding the golden mountains and mansions <br />Of the grave, gay, seaside land. <br />Bound by a sovereign strip, we lie, <br />Watch yellow, wish for wind to blow away <br />The strata of the shore and drown red rock; <br />But wishes breed not, neither <br />Can we fend off rock arrival, <br />Lie watching yellow until the golden weather <br />Breaks, O my heart's blood, like a heart and hill.<br /><br />Dylan Thomas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/we-lying-by-seasand/
