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Inscrutable is our thought. Each wave is only the But that itson peace iswas a
brooding peace, onits beauty a significant beauty, who can
look on us & deny? tenuous beauty. We lie at your doors
wishing you well , & o
      To which Who; waking then in the depths of this dark, this
to silent, this restful night, wherewhen the nigh darkness98 was a veil
spread over some thing whose sighmurmur was as the a
seemed the like the murmur of secrets & wisdom too deep to be
fully uttered, could, even now, after chaos, after storm,
resist the desire to find out there down on the beach some
in on the pale sand, with the waves breaking, & only a light at the
harbour, a light on some masthead, a light on the cliff, &
.the lighthouse
 looking, now
 gravely now,
 stilly now, 99piercing its slumbrous bulk, to something more.
    And yet, seeing how much we have suffered, how often,
when the secret seemed ours, been mocked, now100 on the whole now
we shal it seems better to only to lie here, in the dark;
It is indeed a perfect summer's night, & with in th101ese latitudes
the light shaded not gone seems only shaded; & it is exquisite & soothing &
consoling to wake, & to lie with the windows open, & the
voice coming through the windows, too gently for us to catch
the words, the voice of the beauty of the world, & to
let it sing to us, those old ancient that ancient music which
heaven knows no heart can resist, that grow murmured
strain which seems to say li bid us lie still, lie quiet, all
night long, so that, when everyone is asleep, it may impart to
us, so wisely attentive, its message -102 how The wave
sweeps breaks on the shore103.

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