I’ll go among the dead to see my friend. <br />The place I leave is beautiful: the sea <br />Repeats the winds’ far swell in its long sound, <br />And, there beside it, houses solemnly <br />Shine with the modest courage of the land, <br />While swimmers try the verge of what they see. <br /> <br /> <br />I cannot go, although I should pretend <br />Some final self whose phantom eye could see <br />Him who because he is not cannot change. <br />And yet the thought of going makes the sea, <br />The land, the swimmers, and myself seem strange, <br />Almost as strange as they will someday be.<br /><br />Edgar Bowers<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-afternoon-at-the-beach/