5 — Or the man and the old woman seated at either end Of a long bench that leans and sags rustily: Though sudden raw weather has cleared the beach, and she Is dressed none too warmly, she keeps with a thin hand Her jacket collar closed and reads on as she’d planned, It looks like, in an old paperback, all the while he Dressed up as for a party — a party refugee? — Stares, with his elbows on his knees, at the cold sand: Or the leopard seal lying long dead and swollen tight Getting his spots changed for him, all right, by the sea And the sea air: or that strong old man in serious thought, Bareheaded, in a workman’s clothes — a machinist, maybe; The last runner in, I met him stalking doggedly out Between dark sea and cliffs in the fast-failing light. 11