NOW the moment had come when the irrevocable decision must be taken whether or not to send the Army of the Nile to Greece. This grave step was required not only to help Greece in her peril and torment, but to form against the impending German attack a Balkan Front comprising Yugoslavia, Greece, and Turkey, with effects upon Soviet Russia which could not be measured by us. These would certainly have been all-important if the Soviet leaders had realised what was coming upon them. It was not what we could send ourselves that could decide the Balkan issue. Our limited hope was to stir and organise united action. If at the wave of our wand Yugoslavia, Greece, and Turkey would all act together, it seemed to us that Hitler might either let the Balkans off for the time being or become so heavily engaged with our combined forces as to create a major front in that theatre. We did not then know that he was already deeply set upon his gigantic invasion of Russia. If we had we should have felt more confidence in the success of our policy. We should have seen that he risked falling between two stools, and might easily impair his supreme undertaking for the sake of a Balkan preliminary. This is what actually happened, but we could not know at the time. Some may think we builded rightly; at least we builded better than we knew. It was our aim to animate and combine Yugoslavia, Greece, and Turkey. Our duty so far as possible was to aid the Greeks. For all these purposes our four divisions in the Delta were well placed.
On March 1 the German Army began to move into Bulgaria. The Bulgarian Army mobilised and took up positions along the Greek frontier. A general southward movement of the German forces was in progress, aided in every way by the Bulgarians. On the following day Mr. Eden and General Dill resumed their military conversations in Athens. As the result of these Mr. Eden sent a very serious message, and a marked change came over our views in London. Admiral Cunningham, though convinced our policy was right, left us in no doubt as to the considerable naval risks in the Mediterranean which were involved. The Chiefs of Staff recorded the various factors developing unfavourably against our Balkan policy, and particularly against sending an army to Greece. “The hazards of the enterprise,” they reported, “have considerably increased.” They did not however feel that they could as yet question the military advice of those on the spot, who described the position as not by any means hopeless.
14*
After reflecting alone at Chequers on the Sunday night upon the trend of discussion in the War Cabinet that morning, I sent the following message to Mr. Eden, who had now left Athens for Cairo. This certainly struck a different note on my part. But I take full responsibility for the eventual decision, because I am sure I could have stopped it all if I had been convinced. It is so much easier to stop than to do.
… We have done our best to promote Balkan combination against Germany. We must be careful not to urge Greece against her better judgment into a hopeless resistance alone when we have only hand-fuls of troops which can reach the scene in time. Grave Imperial issues are raised by committing New Zealand and Australian troops to an enterprise which, as you say, has become even more hazardous.… We must liberate Greeks from feeling bound to reject a German ultimatum. If on their own they resolve to fight, we must to some extent share their ordeal. But rapid German advance will probably prevent any appreciable British Imperial forces from being engaged.
Loss of Greece and Balkans by no means a major catastrophe for us, provided Turkey remains honest neutral. We could take Rhodes and consider plans for a descent on Sicily or Tripoli. We are advised from many quarters that our ignominious ejection from Greece would do us more harm in Spain and Vichy than the fact of submission of Balkans, which with our scanty forces alone we have never been expected to prevent.…
Attached to this was the grave commentary of the Chiefs of Staff.
As soon as my warning telegram was read by our ambassador in Athens he showed lively distress. “How,” he telegraphed to the Foreign Secretary, “can we possibly abandon the King of Greece after the assurances given him by the Commander-in-Chief and Chief of the Imperial General Staff as to reasonable chances of success? This seems to me quite unthinkable. We shall be pilloried by the Greeks and the world in general as going back on our word. There is no question of ‘liberating the Greeks from feeling bound to reject the ultimatum’. They have decided to fight Germany alone if necessary. The question is whether we help or abandon them.”
The War Cabinet thereupon resolved to take no decision till we had a reply to all this from Mr. Eden. His answer arrived next day. The material portion ran as follows:
“… Collapse of Greece without further effort on our part to save her by intervention on land, after the Libyan victories had, as all the world knows, made forces available, would be the greatest calamity. Yugoslavia would then certainly be lost; nor can we feel confident that even Turkey would have the strength to remain steadfast if the Germans and Italians were established in Greece without effort on our part to resist them. No doubt our prestige will suffer if we are ignominiously ejected, but in any event to have fought and suffered in Greece would be less damaging to us than to have left Greece to her fate.… In the existing situation we are all agreed that the course advocated should be followed and help given to Greece.”
Accompanied by the Chiefs of Staff, I brought the issue before the War Cabinet, who were fully apprised of everything as it happened, for final decision. In spite of the fact that we could not send more aircraft than were already ordered and on the way, there was no hesitation or division among us. Personally I felt that the men on the spot had been searchingly tested. There was no doubt that their hands had not been forced in any way by political pressure from home. Smuts, with all his wisdom, and from his separate angle of thought and fresh eye, had concurred. Nor could anyone suggest that we had thrust ourselves upon Greece against her wishes. No one had been over-persuaded. Certainly we had with us the highest expert authority, acting in full freedom and with all knowledge of the men and the scene. My colleagues, who were toughened by the many risks we had run successfully, had independently reached the same conclusions. Mr. Menzies, on whom a special burden rested, was full of courage. There was a strong glow for action. The Cabinet was short; the decision final; the answer brief:
“Chiefs of Staff [have] advised that, in view of steadfastly expressed opinion of Commanders-in-Chief on the spot, of the Chief of the Imperial General Staff, and commanders of the forces to be employed, it would be right to go on. Cabinet decided to authorise you to proceed with the operation, and by so doing Cabinet accepts for itself the fullest responsibility.* We will communicate with Australian and New Zealand Governments accordingly.”
The fate of Yugoslavia must now be described. The whole defence of Salonika depended on her coming in, and it was vital to know what she would do. On March 2, Mr. Campbell, our Ambassador at Belgrade, met Mr. Eden in Athens. He said that the Yugoslavs were frightened of Germany and unsettled internally by political difficulties. There was a chance however that if they knew our plans for aiding Greece they might be ready to help. On the 5th the Foreign Secretary sent Mr. Campbell back to Belgrade with a confidential letter to the Regent, Prince Paul. In this he portrayed Yugoslavia’s fate at German hands, and said that Greece and Turkey intended to fight if attacked. In such a case Yugoslavia must join us. The Regent was to be told verbally that the British had decided to help Greece with land and air forces as strongly and quickly as possible, and that if a Yugoslav Staff officer could be sent to Athens we would include him in our discussions.
In this atmosphere much turned on the Regent’s attitude. Prince Paul was an amiable, artistic personage, but the prestige of the monarchy had long been on the wane and he now carried the policy of neutrality to its limits. He dreaded particularly that any move by Yugoslavia or her neighbours might provoke the Germans into a southward advance into the Balkans. He declined a proposed visit from Mr. Eden. Fear reigned. The Ministers and the leading politicians did not dare to speak their minds. There was one exception. An Air Force general named Simovic represented the nationalist elements among the Officer Corps of the armed forces. Since December his office had become a clandestine centre of opposition to German penetration into the Balkans and to the inertia of the Yugoslav Government.
On March 4 Prince Paul left Belgrade on a secret visit to Berchtesgaden, and under dire pressure undertook verbally that Yugoslavia would follow the example of Bulgaria. On his return, at a meeting of the Royal Council and in separate discussion with political and military leaders, he found opposing views. Debate was violent, but the German ultimatum was real. General Simovic, when summoned to the White Palace, Prince Paul’s residence on the hills above Belgrade, was firm against capitulation. Serbia would not accept such a decision, and the dynasty would be endangered. But Prince Paul had already in effect committed his country.
During the night of March 20 at a Cabinet meeting, the Yugoslav Government decided to adhere to the Tripartite Pact. Three ministers however resigned on this issue. On March 24 the Prime Minister and the Minister for Foreign Affairs crept out of Belgrade from a suburban railway station on the Vienna train. Next day they signed the pact with Hitler in Vienna, and the ceremony was broadcast over the Belgrade radio. Rumours of imminent disaster swept through the cafés and conclaves of the Yugoslav capital.
Direct action, if the Government capitulated to Germany, had been discussed for some months in the small circle of officers round Simovic. When during March 26 the news of the return from Vienna of the Yugoslav Ministers began to circulate in Belgrade the conspirators decided to act. Few revolutions have gone more smoothly. There was no bloodshed. Certain senior officers were placed under arrest. The Prime Minister was brought by the police to Simovic’s headquarters and obliged to sign a letter of resignation. Prince Paul was informed that Simovic had taken over the Government in the name of the King, and that the Council of Regency had been dissolved. He was escorted to the office of General Simovic. Together with the other two regents, he then signed the act of abdication. He was allowed a few hours to collect his effects, and, together with his family, he left the country that night for Greece.
The plan had been made and executed by a close band of Serb nationalist officers who had identified themselves with the true public mood. Their action let loose an outburst of popular enthusiasm. The streets of Belgrade were soon thronged with Serbs, chanting, “Rather war than the pact; rather death than slavery.” There was dancing in the squares; English and French flags appeared everywhere; the Serb national anthem was sung with wild defiance by valiant, helpless multitudes. On March 28 King Peter, who by climbing down a rain-pipe had made his own escape from Regency tutelage, attended divine service in Belgrade Cathedral, amid fervent acclamation. The German Minister was publicly insulted, and the crowd spat on his car. The military exploit had roused a surge of national vitality. A people paralysed in action, hitherto ill-governed and ill-led, long haunted by the sense of being ensnared, flung their reckless, heroic defiance at the tyrant and conqueror in the moment of his greatest power.
Hitler was stung to the quick. He had a burst of that convulsive anger which momentarily blotted out thought and sometimes impelled him on his most dire adventures. In a passion he summoned the German High Command. Goering, Keitel, and Jodl were present, and Ribbentrop arrived later. Hitler said that Yugoslavia was an uncertain factor in the coming action against Greece, and even more in the “Barbarossa” undertaking against Russia later on. He deemed it fortunate that the Yugoslavs had revealed their temper before “Barbarossa” was launched. Yugoslavia must be destroyed “militarily and as a national unit.” The blow must be carried out with unmerciful harshness. The night was spent by the generals in drafting the operation orders. Keitel confirms our view that the greatest danger to Germany was “an attack upon the Italian army from the rear.” “The decision to attack Yugoslavia meant completely upsetting all military movements and arrangements made up to that time. The invasion of Greece had to be completely readjusted. New forces had to be brought through Hungary from the north. All had to be improvised.”
Hungary was directly and immediately affected. Although the main German thrust against the Yugoslavs would clearly come through Roumania, all lines of communication led through Hungarian territory. Almost the first reaction of the German Government to the events in Belgrade was to send the Hungarian Minister in Berlin by air to Budapest with an urgent message to the Hungarian Regent, Admiral Horthy:
Yugoslavia will be annihilated, for she has just renounced publicly the policy of understanding with the Axis. The greater part of the German armed forces must pass through Hungary. But the principal attack will not be made on the Hungarian sector. Here the Hungarian Army should intervene, and, in return for its co-operation, Hungary will be able to reoccupy all those former territories which she had been forced at one time to cede to Yugoslavia. The matter is urgent. An immediate and affirmative reply is requested.*
Hungary was bound by a pact of friendship to Yugoslavia signed only in December 1940. But open opposition to the German demands could only lead to the German occupation of Hungary in the course of the imminent military operations. There was also the temptation of regaining the territories on her southern frontiers which Hungary had lost to Yugoslavia after the first World War. The Hungarian Premier, Count Teleki, had been working consistently to maintain some liberty of action for his country. He was by no means convinced that Germany would win. At the time of signing the Tripartite Pact he had little confidence in the independence of Italy as an Axis partner. Hitler’s ultimatum required the breach of his own Hungarian agreement with Yugoslavia. The initiative was however wrested from him by the Hungarian General Staff, whose chief, General Werth, himself of German origin, made his own arrangements with the German High Command behind the back of the Hungarian Government.
Teleki at once denounced Werth’s action as treasonable. On the evening of April 2, 1941, he received a telegram from the Hungarian Minister in London that the British Foreign Office had stated formally to him that if Hungary took part in any German move against Yugoslavia she must expect a declaration of war upon her by Great Britain. Thus the choice for Hungary was either a vain resistance to the passage of German troops or ranging herself openly against the Allies and betraying Yugoslavia. In this cruel position Count Teleki saw but one means of saving his personal honour. Shortly after nine o’clock he left the Hungarian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and retired to his apartments in the Sandor Palace. There he received a telephone call. It is believed that this message stated that the German armies had already crossed the Hungarian frontier. Shortly afterwards he shot himself. His suicide was a sacrifice to absolve himself and his people from guilt in the German attack upon Yugoslavia. It clears his name before history. It could not stop the march of the German armies nor the consequences.
The movement of our expedition to Greece had meanwhile begun. In order of embarkation, it comprised the British 1st Armoured Brigade, the New Zealand Division, and the 6th Australian Division. These were all fully equipped at the expense of other formations in the Middle East. They were to be followed by the Polish Brigade and the 7th Australian Division. The plan was to hold the Aliakhmon Une, which ran from the mouth of the river of that name through Veria and Edhessa to the Yugoslav frontier. Our forces were to join the Greek forces deployed on this front, which were nominally the equivalent of seven divisions, and were to come under the command of General Wilson.
The Greek troops were far less than General Papagos had originally promised.* The great majority of the Greek Army, about fifteen divisions, was in Albania. The remainder were in Macedonia, whence Papagos declined to withdraw them, and where, after four days’ fighting, when the Germans attacked, they ceased to be a military force. Our air force numbered only eighty operational aircraft, against a German air strength of over ten times as many. The weakness of the Aliakhmon position lay on its left flank, which could be turned by a German advance through Southern Yugoslavia. There had been little contact with the Yugoslav General Staff, whose plan of defence and degree of preparedness were not known to the Greeks or ourselves. It was hoped however that in the difficult country which the enemy would have to cross the Yugoslavs would at least be able to impose considerable delay on them. This hope was to prove ill-founded. General Papagos did not consider that withdrawal from Albania to meet such a turning movement was a feasible operation. Not only would it severely affect morale, but the Greek Army was so ill-equipped with transport and communications were so bad that a general withdrawal in the face of the enemy was impossible. He had certainly left the decision till too late. It was in these circumstances that our 1st Armoured Brigade reached the forward area on March 27, where it was joined a few days later by the New Zealand Division.
The news of the revolution in Belgrade naturally gave us great satisfaction. Here at least was one tangible result of our desperate efforts to form an Allied front in the Balkans and prevent all falling piecemeal into Hitler’s power. It was settled that Eden should remain in Athens to deal with Turkey and that General Dill should proceed to Belgrade. Anyone could see that the position of Yugoslavia was forlorn unless a common front was immediately presented by all the Powers concerned. There was however open to Yugoslavia the chance already mentioned of striking a deadly blow at the naked rear of the disorganised Italian armies in Albania. If they acted promptly they might bring about a major military event, and while their own country was being ravaged from the north might possess themselves of the masses of munitions and equipment which would give them the power of conducting the guerilla in their mountains which was now their only hope. It would have been a grand stroke, and would have reacted upon the whole Balkan scene. In our circle in London we all saw this together. The diagram on page 413 shows the movement which was deemed feasible.
But the mistakes of years cannot be remedied in hours. When the general excitement had subsided everyone in Belgrade realised that disaster and death approached them and that there was little they could do to avert their fate. The High Command could now at last mobilise their armies. But there was no strategic plan. Dill found only confusion and paralysis. The Yugoslav Government, mainly for fear of the effect on the internal situation, were determined to take no step which might be considered provocative to Germany. At this moment all the might of Germany within reach was descending like an avalanche upon them. One would have thought from the mood and outlook of the Yugoslav Ministers that they had months in which to take their decision about peace or war with Germany. Actually they had only seventy-two hours before the onslaught fell upon them.
On the morning of April 6 German bombers appeared over Belgrade. Flying in relays from occupied airfields in Roumania, they delivered a methodical attack lasting three days upon the Yugoslav capital. From roof-top height, without fear of resistance, they blasted the city without mercy. This was called Operation “Punishment”. When the silence came at last on April 8 over seventeen thousand citizens of Belgrade lay dead in the streets or under the débris. Out of the nightmare of smoke and fire came the maddened animals released from their shattered cages in the zoological gardens. A stricken stork hobbled past the main hotel, which was a mass of flames. A bear, dazed and uncomprehending, shuffled through the inferno with slow and awkward gait down towards the Danube. He was not the only bear who did not understand.
Simultaneously with the ferocious bombardment of Belgrade, the converging German armies already poised on the frontiers invaded Yugoslavia from several directions. The Yugoslav General Staff did not attempt to strike their one deadly blow at the Italian rear. They conceived themselves bound not to abandon Croatia and Slovenia, and were therefore forced to attempt the defence of the whole frontier line. The four Yugoslav Army Corps in the north were rapidly and irresistibly bent inwards by the German armoured columns, supported by Hungarian troops which crossed the Danube, and by German and Italian forces advancing towards Zagreb. The main Yugoslav forces were thus driven in confusion southwards, and on April 13 the Germans entered Belgrade. Meanwhile the Twelfth German Army, assembled in Bulgaria, had swung into Serbia and Macedonia. They had entered Monastir and Yannina on the 10th, and thus had prevented any contact between the Yugoslavs and Greeks and broken up the Yugoslav forces in the south.
Seven days later Yugoslavia capitulated.
This sudden collapse destroyed the main hope of the Greeks. It was another example of “One at a time”. We had done our utmost to procure concerted action, but through no fault of ours we had failed. A grim prospect now gaped upon us all. Five German divisions, including three armoured, took part in the southward drive to Athens. By April 8 it was clear that Yugoslav resistance in the south was breaking down and that the left flank of the Aliakhmon position would shortly be threatened, and on April 10 the attack on our flank guard began. It was arrested during two days of stiff fighting in severe weather.
Farther west there was only one Greek cavalry division keeping touch with the forces in Albania, and General Wilson decided that his hard-pressed left flank must be pulled back. This move was completed on April 13, but in the process the Greek Divisions began to disintegrate. Henceforward our Expeditionary Force was alone. Wilson, still menaced upon his left flank, decided to withdraw to Thermopylæ. He put this to Papagos, who approved, and who himself at this stage suggested British evacuation from Greece. The next few days were decisive. Wavell telegraphed on the 16th that General Wilson had had a conversation with Papagos, who described the Greek Army as being severely pressed and getting into administrative difficulties owing to air action. Wavell’s instructions to Wilson were to continue the fighting in co-operation with the Greeks so long as they were able to resist, but authorised any further withdrawal judged necessary. Orders had been given for all ships on the way to Greece to be turned back, for no more ships to be loaded, and for those already loading or loaded to be emptied.
To this grave but not unexpected news I replied at once that we could not remain in Greece against the wish of the Greek Commander-in-Chief, and thus expose the country to devastation, and that if the Greek Government assented, the evacuation should proceed.
“Crete,” I added, “must be held in force.”
On the 17th General Wilson motored from Thebes to the palace at Tatoi, and there met the King, General Papagos, and our Ambassador. It was accepted that withdrawal to the Thermopylæ line had been the only possible plan. General Wilson was confident that he could hold that line for a while. The main discussion was the method and order of evacuation. The Greek Government would not leave for at least another week.
The Greek Prime Minister, M. Korysis, has already been mentioned. He had been chosen to fill the gap when Metaxas died. He had no claim to public office except a blameless private life and clear, resolute convictions. He could not survive the ruin, as it seemed, of his country or bear longer his own responsibilities. Like Count Teleki in Hungary, he resolved to pay the forfeit of his life. On the 18th he committed suicide. His memory should be respected.
The retreat to Thermopylæ was a difficult manœuvre, but stubborn and skilful rearguard actions checked the impetuous German advance at all points, inflicting severe losses. By April 20 the occupation of the Thermopylæ position was complete. Frontally it was strong, but our forces were strained. The Germans made slow progress and the position was never severely tested. On this same day the Greek armies on the Albanian front surrendered. On the 21st His Majesty told General Wavell that time rendered it impossible for any organised Greek force to support the British left flank before the enemy could attack. Wavell replied that in that case he felt that it was his duty to take immediate steps for re-embarkation of such portion of his army as he could extricate. The King entirely agreed, and seemed to have expected this. He spoke with deep regret of having been the means of placing the British forces in such a position. He promised what help he could. But all was vain. The final surrender of Greece to overwhelming German might was made on April 24.
We were now confronted with another of those evacuations by sea which we had endured in 1940. The organised withdrawal of over fifty thousand men from Greece under the conditions prevailing might well have seemed an almost hopeless task. At Dunkirk on the whole we had air mastery. In Greece the Germans were in complete and undisputed control of the air and could maintain an almost continuous attack on the ports and on the retreating Army. It was obvious that embarkation could only take place by night, and moreover that troops must avoid being seen near the beaches in daylight. This was Norway over again, and on ten times the scale.
Admiral Cunningham threw nearly the whole of his light forces, including six cruisers and nineteen destroyers, into the task. Working from the small ports and beaches in Southern Greece, together with transports, assault ships and many smaller craft, the work of rescue began on the night of April 24.
For five successive nights the work continued. On the 26th the enemy captured the vital bridge over the Corinth Canal by parachute attack, and thereafter German troops poured into the Peloponnese, harrying our hard-pressed soldiers as they strove to reach the southern beaches. At Nauplion there was disaster. The transport Slamat in a gallant but misguided effort to embark the maximum stayed too long in the anchorage. Soon after dawn, when clearing the land, she was attacked and sunk by dive-bombers. Two destroyers, who rescued most of the 700 men on board, were both in turn sunk by air attack a few hours later. There were only fifty survivors from all three ships.
On the 28th and 29th efforts were made by two cruisers and six destroyers to rescue 8,000 troops and 1,400 Yugoslav refugees from the beaches near Kalamata. A destroyer sent on ahead to arrange the embarkation found the enemy in possession of the town and large fires burning, and the main operation had to be abandoned. Although a counter-attack drove the Germans out of the town, only about 450 men were rescued from beaches to the eastward by four destroyers, using their own boats. These events marked the end of the main evacuation. Small isolated parties were picked up in various islands or in small craft at sea during the next two days, and 1,400 officers and men, aided by the Greeks at mortal peril, made their way back to Egypt independently in later months.
In all over 11,000 of our own troops were lost and 50,662 were safely brought out, including men of the Royal Air Force and several thousand Cypriots, Palestinians, Greeks, and Yugoslavs. This figure represented about 80 per cent. of the forces originally sent into Greece. These results were only made possible by the determination and skill of the seamen of the Royal and Allied Merchant Navies, who never faltered under the enemy’s most ruthless efforts to halt their work. From April 21 until the end of the evacuation twenty-six ships were lost by air attack. The Royal Air Force, with a Fleet Air Arm contingent from Crete, did what they could to help, but they were overwhelmed by numbers. Nevertheless, from November onwards our few squadrons had done fine service. They inflicted on the enemy confirmed losses of 231 planes and had dropped 500 tons of bombs. Their own losses of 209 machines, of which 72 were in combat, were severe, their record exemplary.
The small but efficient Greek Navy now passed under British control. A cruiser, six modern destroyers, and four submarines escaped to Alexandria, where they arrived on April 25. Thereafter the Greek Navy was represented with distinction in many of our operations in the Mediterranean.
If in telling this tale of tragedy the impression is given that the Imperial and British forces received no effective military assistance from their Greek Allies, it must be remembered that these three weeks of April fighting at desperate odds were for the Greeks the culmination of the hard five months’ struggle against Italy in which they had expended almost the whole life-strength of their country. Attacked in October 1940 without warning by at least twice their numbers, they had first repulsed the invaders and then in counter-attack had beaten them back forty miles into Albania. Throughout the bitter winter in the mountains they had been at close grips with a more numerous and better-equipped foe. The Greek Army of the North-West had neither the transport nor the roads for a rapid manœuvre to meet at the last moment the new overpowering German attack cutting in behind its flank and rear. Its strength had already been strained almost to the limit in a long and gallant defence of the homeland.
There were no recriminations. The friendliness and aid which the Greeks had so faithfully shown to our troops endured nobly to the end. The people of Athens and at other points of evacuation seemed more concerned for the safety of their would-be rescuers than with their own fate. Greek martial honour stands undimmed.
In a broadcast I tried not only to express the feelings of the English-speaking world but to state the dominant facts which ruled our fate:
While we naturally view with sorrow and anxiety much that is happening in Europe and in Africa, and may happen in Asia, we must not lose our sense of proportion and thus become discouraged or alarmed. When we face with a steady eye the difficulties which lie before us, we may derive new confidence from remembering those we have already overcome. Nothing that is happening now is comparable in gravity with the dangers through which we passed last year. Nothing that can happen in the East is comparable with what is happening in the West.
I have some lines which seem apt and appropriate to our fortunes to-night, and I believe they will be so judged wherever the English language is spoken or the flag of freedom flies.
“For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.
And not by eastern windows only,
When daylight comes, comes in the light:
In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly!
But westward, look, the land is bright.”
