Above the Dock, by T. E. Hulme

Above the Dock

Above the quiet dock in mid night,

Tangled in the tall mast’s corded height,

Hangs the moon. What seemed so far away

Is but a child’s balloon, forgotten after play.

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Over the flat slopes of St Eloi A wide wall of sand bags. Night, In the silence desultory men Pottering over small fires, cleani…

Once, in finesse of fiddles found… In the flash of gold heels on the… Now see I That warmth’s the very stuff of po… Oh, God, make small

A touch of cold in the Autumn nig… I walked abroad, And saw the ruddy moon lean over a… Like a red-faced farmer. I did not stop to speak, but nodde…