The Sea-Elephant

A great beast whose step,

though unheard,

crushes earth

and soft tide.

The minutes run

in the distance

while it waits quietly

head bent low

till rapacious scull

floats the water high.

No swifter both

away, unseen,

hushed among trees,

the flies wait for the dawn.

A soft voice,

tWow sided a wing

and waiting.

It takes a long

and pregnant time

for the waves

to become,

and now

the separation will draw near.

The water speaks

a language to the foam,

an ancient affection

turning with darkness.

And a song

comes to him

from the long old shores.

Out of moonlight,

and the desire for air.

The sea remains

before the house

of a head of man.

• William Carlos Williams