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Running Late, Having Held the Class on
Herbert Overtime to Look at Three Lines
Deep dusk, the quarter moon strong enough now
To show in the wave's fl ank with a fi sh-like glitter,
I run on the dark beach thinking, This is better
Than the delicate orange clouds two days ago
In pale green sky, too pretty. (Are there no
Other runners here, for once?) Thinking, That wetter
Sand there shines like some membrane, this twitter
Of sleepy sanderlings says it must be so
That I'm the last one out, that subdued roar
Of water's a not-word I have heard before,
And suddenly there comes the one thing more
I ought to have told the class, that not elsewhere
In English is that thought thought -- and see how clear
And passionate and quiet it is there.