Frances
Cornford .
My
idle
hands and fingers brown
Played
with
the
pebbles
grey ;
The waves
came
up, the
waves
went
down ,
Most thundering
and
gay .
The
pebbles
they were
smooth
and
round
And warm
upon my hands ,
Like
little
people
I had
found
Sitting
among
the sands.
The
grains of
sand
so
shining -small,
Soft
through my fingers
ran ;
The sun
shone
down
upon
it all,
And
so my
dream
began .
How
all
of
this
had
been
before
,
How
ages far away
I
lay
on
some
forgotten
shore
As here
I
lie
to-
day
.
The waves
came shining
up
the
sands
,
As here
to-
day
they
shine
;
And
in
my
pre
-
Pelasgian
hands
The sand
was
warm
and
fine
.
I
have
forgotten
whence
I
came
,
Or what my home might be
,
Or
by
what strange
and
savage
name
I
called
that
thundering
sea
.