We see in every line lost,
The last syllable isolated
By further loss –
Clear, blue, immobile
In the word “sorrow”
The word thundering in whiten mass.
In one direction and then the other
A strength of body, of weight
Straining at both illusion and shadow,
Making the waves reflect this thought
Of straightened point.
Formed and lost in further thought
Capturing the mighty spear of a silent roar
At the point of loss.