Memory Work

The sea is calm to-night,

The tide is full, the moon lies fair

Upon the Straits; — on the French coast, the light

Gleams, and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,

Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.

Come to the window, sweet is the night air!

Only, from the long tine of spray

Where the ebb meets the moon-blanch'd sand,

Listen! you hear the grating roar

Of pebbles which the waves suck back, and fling,

At their return, up the high strand,

Begin, and cease, and then again begin,

With tremulous cadence slow, and bring

The eternal note of sadness in.

(From "Dover Beach" by Matthew Arnold (1822-1888)