AT VENTURA, CALIFORNIA

The moon rises and washes the brine with silver; The dunes like white elephants restfully asleep after the chase; And the fog comes to bring the moon its veil of shades. The waves stretch their phosphorescent arms To embrace the night, The wind like a wounded gull beats its wings Over the land, over the sea, into the fog-vested intangibility. Like a thousand trumpets the breakers Proclaim the empiry of night, The rocky caverns send back echoes Like homage from vassals near and far; A faint cry seemeth to flash like lightning; Through the clouds of the roar of waves: It is not from the rocks, nor from the sea; Ah! it is the prayer of a mightier ocean—Humanity!