FOR one throb of the artery,
While on that old grey stone I Sat
Under the old wind-broken tree,
...
YOU waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play,
Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart;
In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay,
When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart.
...