Kostka, where I began, looks to the
sea:
That symbol of the infinite, of the life
We travel, of our ends and our beginnings.
In the school's first winter I was a pale child
Learning to read and write there. Under the pines
Two squirrels played. An old priest romped with us
About the grounds. There, later, in still sunlight
I first read Milton's lines on God: His
state
Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest.
Philip Martin (XC 1937-1950)