At Night

In the dust are my father's beautiful hands, In the dust are my mother's eyes. Here by the shore of the ocean standing, Watching: still I do not understand. Love flows over me, around me, Here at night by the sea, by the soverign sea. Gone is that bone-hoard of strength; Gone her gentle motion laughing, walking. It is not strange disease and death Should rest, by the undulant sea? And I stare, rich with gifts, alone, Feeling from the sea those wonderful presences, My father's hands, my mother's eyes.