something of the spirit of St. Valentine

                               












                        HEADLAND





The travelling mass goes landward,  the blind mass
Of headland thrusts a black snout in the sea.
The indifferent violence of the working water,
The winter southwind turning the gulls, stirring
The shell-fed headland grass ---these passionless
Elements feed passion and make our lives---
The lashed shelves, the basalt in foam,
The sea-rock dolphin-dark the green wave frays.



                             Brewster Ghiselin