I remember br The crackle of the palm trees br Over the mooned white roofs of the town… br The shining town… br And the tender fumbling of the surf br On the sulphur-yellow beaches br As we sat… a little apart… in the close-pressing night. br br The moon hung above us like a golden mango, br And the moist air clung to our faces, br Warm and fragrant as the open mouth of a child br And we watched the out-flung sea br Rolling to the purple edge of the world, br Yet ever back upon itself… br As we… br br Inadequate night… br And mooned white memory br Of a tropic sea… br How softly it comes up br Like an ungathered lily.