Beyond the steady rock the steady sea, <br />In movement more immovable than station, <br />Gathers and washes and is gone. It comes, <br />A slow obscure metonymy of motion, <br />Crumbling the inner barriers of the brain. <br />But the crossed rock braces the hills and makes <br />A steady quiet of the steady music, <br />Massive with peace. <br />And listen, now: <br />The foam receding down the sand silvers <br />Between the grains, thin, pure as virgin words, <br />Lending a sheen to Nothing, whispering.<br /><br />Yvor Winters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-fable/
