Clive Staples Lewis [C.S.] (29 November 1898 – 22 November 1963 / Belfast)
Poems of Clive Staples Lewis
|42.||The Ocean Strand||3/21/2012|
|49.||Tu Ne Quaesieris||3/21/2012|
I thought there would be a grave beauty, a sunset splendour
In being the last of one's kind: a topmost moment as one watched
The huge wave curving over Atlantis, the shrouded barge
Turning away with wounded Arthur, or Ilium burning.
Now I see that, all along, I was assuming a posterity
Of gentle hearts: someone, however distant in the depths of time,
Who could pick up our signal, who could understand a story. There won't be.
Between the new Hembidae and us who are dying, already