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I laid me down upon the shore And dreamed a little space; I heard the great waves break and roar; The sun was on my face. My idle hands and fingers brown Played with the pebbles grey; The waves came up, the waves went down, Must thundering and gay. The pebbles, they were smooth and round And warm upon my hands, Like little people I had found Sitting among the sands. The grains of sand so shining-small Soft through my fingers ran; The sun shone down upon it all, And so my dream began: How all of this had been before: How ages far away I lay on some forgotten shore As here I lie today. The waves came shining up the sands, As here today they shine; And in my pre-Pelasgian hands The sand was warm and fine. I have forgotten whence I came, Or what my home might be, Or by what strange and savage name I called that thundering sea. I only know the sun shone down As still it shines today, And in my fingers long and brown The little pebbles lay.
Bryan Waller Procter's other poems:
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