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Hilltop: A Literary Paper. Volume 1 Number 1

Time for Bed

Time for Bed

As the fire glows,
In thick embers on the beach
Piled but falling soft, and fierce;
As the bay dwindles,
Marked but an hour past by two
Embaying points, now lost
In the night, so that there only
Are our faces and the stars,
A warm wind moving down
The valley, the land-breeze;

We shall begin to stir,
Leave the tiny strip of beach
That is all the tide has left.
When we have gone
Those quiet, opaque waters
Will mount on though the nigh
Washing away the charred coals,
The ash, washing away
The marks of day-time ownership,
Little homes that we had built
While sun shone and laughter came
From round the bays;

mounting on
Past the beached boats, mounting
The highest point, the tide-mark,
And rolling on in
Over the grass to the tents,
To the house, the caravan,
The night-engine; and the rain
Will finger the wide roof while we
Sleep safe only
To the unformed, unloved
Waters of the sea;

Yet drown
In memories so sweet,
So architecture as to purge
Our sad, lost souls
In the resistless catharsis
Worked, by the waters
Of the mind, while each friend sleeps.