In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy, And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.
Nothing beside remains.
The lone and level sands stretch far away. The sea is calm to-night. The Sea of Faith Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled. But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world. And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night.