Children are standing far below;
(The roaring trucks slam past.)
They stoop to study pieces of glass that
(Off in the surf, the fishermen cast,
The seagulls plunge,
The breakers explode)
Little bits of glass that crunch
Delightfully by the side of the road,
(Somnambulant)
Beneath their feet,
Beneath their sandals and toes.
They follow the path that starts in the dunes
And climbs the slope over hillock and slough
Toward the labyrinth that winds
On planks askew
Through rampant vines;
High on the cliff, breathless, unseen,
(The landings will cant and the railings careen;
They will plunge to their deaths unless) they reach
The level of the tree-tops and breach
The wall of plants (the Evil),
And scrambling past (of the Forest Primeval),
They stand on the terrace at last.