Now the peak of summer's past, the sky is overcast / And the love we swore would last for an age seems deceit.
I sang as one / Who on a tilting deck sings / To keep men's courage up, though the wave hangs / That shall cut off their sun.
It is the logic of our times,No subject for immortal verse-That we who lived by honest dreamsDefend the bad against the worse.
Suppose that we, to-morrow or the next day, / Came to an end - in storm the shafting broken, / Or a mistaken signal, the flange lifting - / Would that be premature, a text for sorrow?