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