Saturday, March 17, 2012

Saturday commute lviii: time in the rigging

      The salt is on the briar rose,
      The fog is in the fir trees.
      The sea howl
      And the sea yelp, are different voices
      Often together heard: the whine is in the rigging,
      The menace and caress of wave that breaks on water,
      The distant rote in the granite teeth,
      And the wailing warning from the approaching headland
      Are all sea voices ..

T. S. Eliot
Four Quartets
  The Dry Salvages
Harcourt, 1943©

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