By Sri Aurobindo

The grey sea creeps half visible, half-hushed,
And grasps with its innumerable hands
These silent walls. I see beyond a rough
Glimmering infinity, I feel the wash
And hear the sibilation of the waves
That whisper to each other as they push
To shoreward side by side,– long lines and dim
Of movement flecked with quivering spots of foam,
The quiet welter of a shifting world.

Categories: Memories

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