Piha Beach.

We shall be home in the warm bed
soon, our lips will be crushed in
sleep;
But the wide grey mouth of this
beaten beach will be gaping to the
deep.
We shall be wrapped in peace and
love, we shall have food
and rest;
But you, O sand, are you tired, tired,
of the cold waves on your breast?
When the hurrying darkness frightens
day, there'll be dreams to close our
eyes;
But the weary shore is awake all
night for her vigil with the skies.
While the dull mist falls to hide the
sun we are going to warmth and
rest …
And the hungry beach is left alone,
with the cold waves on her breast.

—Betty Carr Rollett.

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