Forty Augusts - Aye, And Several More - Ago, When I Paced The Headlands Loosed From Dull Employ, The Waves Huzza'D Like A Multitude Below In The Sway Of An All-Including Joy Without Cloy. Blankly I Walked There A Double Decade After, When Thwarts Had Flung Their Toils In Front Of Me, And I Heard The Waters Wagging In A Long Ironic Laughter At The Lot Of Men, And All The Vapoury Things That Be. Wheeling Change Has Set Me Again Standing Where Once I Heard The Waves Huzza At Lammas-Tide; But They Supplicate Now - Like A Congregation There Who Murmur The Confession - I Outside, Prayer Denied.