I gazing at the boundaries of granite and spray,
the established sea-marks, felt behind me
Mountain and plain, the immense breadth of the continent,
before me the mass and double stretch of water.
Mother, though my song's measure is like your
surf-beat's ancient rhythm I never learned it of you.
Before there was any water there were tides of fire,
both our tones flow from the older fountain.
- - Robinson Jeffers, Continent's End
Keywords:california, cypress, landscape, point lobos, weston beach