Poezja

And did those feet,
So bravely at the beach,
Set out determined, with the will to win,
Beside the cold blue sea that lapped,
That urged them on to greater strides, within.
 
I walked the shore
Behind these dual tracks,
To note their strides, the vigour shown in each,
They left such deep-drawn prints in sand,
When life was new - an endless stretch of beach!
 
The sun rose high,
Then soon began to dip,
Their prints diverged as his would tempt the sea,
Her smaller steps walked safer, at the side,
And watched him turn, in uncertainty!
 
The daylight fled,
And still I followed on,
Self-sworn to see the end of this, their joust,
Her prints grew deeper, with a shortened stride,
While his lurched in, and back, and out.
 
Each patterned sole
Like some distinctive tread,
Now broken, windswept, trailed its own design,
I followed blind, to read the road they trod,
Would they diverge? Or seek some common line?
 
And then I saw them,
Trailing dismal back,
His head hung, beaten; her great with child,
They spoke no word, the tide came to defeat them;
They passed on by, and my illusion died!
 
David Lewis Paget