The grey-green stretch of sandy grass, <br />Indefinitely desolate; <br />A sea of lead, a sky of slate; <br />Already autumn in the air, alas! <br /> <br />One stark monotony of stone, <br />The long hotel, acutely white, <br />Against the after-sunset light <br />Withers grey-green, and takes the grass's tone. <br /> <br />Listless and endless it outlies, <br />And means, to you and me, no more <br />Than any pebble on the shore, <br />Or this indifferent moment as it dies.<br /><br />Arthur Symons<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-dieppe/
