The Exodus

Running! with the ocean to part the night, They ran the race again; it’s a chase in vain, At the gates of the dawn, the chill that so white— And the shadows shelter must—of the dreary rain! But the hoary lines of the questions tossed aside, And the bones may weather them dear;— Wherefore the stars of the sands are dashed, To remind me of all shapes— that discern our veers.

So I saw that the darkness shall lead the storm— And oft’ shall the flowers bloom from waters afar! For where the life bends softly—past the old— All my shores bade farewell, as I strode my star— In wonder the fragments shall dream their song to fear, Where the waves wept and the sands sank throughout the light!

• John Masefield