"FROM WHENCE HIS MOTHER ROSE"
Sea-glaze from the cliff summit, a motionless green
adoration of sun (sun that adored our love)
till the white lips' writhing and the rocks of their pain -
flower-lovely-false, marginal, seen from above.
Sea-trance from the bed of weeds and shells. the leached
compassionate light of sickrooms: kingdom, though,
of crab and squid and small cold rivers - arched
with franchise, yet, and burnscape, felt from below.
Do not, oh never, dive: what stays behind
is all you live-by; what you carry down
will struggle pitiless; vox humana wind
you fall through, lies: by sea or sun, you drown.