If you should look for this place after a handful of lifetimes:
Perhaps of my planted forest a
May stand yet, dark-leaved Australians or the coast cypress,
With storm-drift; but fire and the axe are devils.
Look for foundations of sea-worn granite, my fingers had the
To make stone love stone, you will find some remnant.
But if you should look in your idleness after ten thousand years:
It is the granite knoll on the
And lava tongue in the midst of the bay, by the mouth of the
River-valley, these four will
In the change of names.
You will know it by the wild sea-fragrance of
Though the ocean may have climbed or retired a little;
You will know it by the valley inland that our sun and our moon were born
Before the poles changed; and Orion in
Evenings was strung in the throat of the valley like a lamp-lighted bridge.
Come in the morning you will see white
Weaving a dance over blue water, the wane of the
Their dance-companion, a ghost
By daylight, but wider and whiter than any bird in the world.
My ghost you needn't look for; it is
Here, but a dark one, deep in the granite, not dancing on
With the mad wings and the day moon.
