Trampled in the causeway, the stone the builders passed over
Calls out: ‘Bone of the ranked heights, from darkness
Where moss and spiders never venture.
You know what ways I plumbed, past what hard threshold;
‘You see our affliction, you know
How we were made and how we decay. At hand
When the backbone splintered in the sea tide, you have heard
The twang of the waves breaking our bones.
‘You look down where the high peaks are ranging,
You see them flickering like flames ––
They are like a midge dancing at evening.
‘Give me rest for one long day of mourning;
Let me lie on the stone bench above the tree-line
And drink water for one whole day.’