Yet a Little Longer

Loud-voiced tormentor of this naked land,
Whelming with cataract floods the patient strand,
And you, lean rocks, that, lying out to sea,
In its grey wash slumber eternally,
I am your comrade for a little space,
A little longer while God gives me grace,
While the uplifted arrows hovering stay,
And night and day for me are night and day.
A few more months or years, and yon vast sea
Whose tides know nought of personality,
Engulf me; Me! beside whose deeps you stand
Like the least lakelet of yon lake-strewn land.
I am so rare, so strange, nor faun nor fay
Can match me, yet my tale is “every-day,”
Almost too slight to utter! Meanwhile we
Watch these late hours together silently.