In all my days of memory
I cannot recall
Such a savage wynd
The beach was totally deserted
But my thin lips
Betrayed a smile
As I knew that the soft spring wynds
Were not far away
In the shadows of this raging beast
Pale Fire
Garance and I were drawing the heat
From a small fire deep on an exposed beach
The east wynds were cutting and raw
But we were both proud of our futile gesture