A young man runs from inland valleys to the ocean, full of hope and physical energy, and the speaker sees in him a younger self. The speaker understands this runner completely: the pull of the sea, the chant of his own heartbeat, the long road. That same urgent longing once drove the speaker too. Now the young man lies wounded at the tide’s edge, broken by the force he ran toward. The tone is tender but weary. The speaker recognizes the dream, the certainty, the open arms, but also the collapse when the rude ocean rises and falls. The sea feels like desire, love, or ambition—something vast and thrilling that can also throw you down. The final line is quiet and firm: having been hurt this way before, the speaker does not want to walk that road again.
For Eager Lovers — Summary
I understand what you were running for, Slim naked boy, and why from far inland You came between dark hills. I know the roar The sea makes in some ears. I understand.
I understand why you were running now And how you heard the sea resound, and how You leaped and left your valley for the long Brown road. I understand the song
You chanted with your running, with your feet Marking the measure of your high heart's beat. Now you are broken. Seeing your wide brow I see your dreams. I understand you now.
Since I have run like you, I understand The throat's long wish, the breath that comes so quick, The heart's light leap, the heels that drag so sick, And warped heat wrinkles, lengthening the sand. . . .
Now you are broken. Seeing your wide brow I see your dreams, understanding now The cry, the certainty, wide arms, — and then The way rude ocean rises and descends. . . .
I saw you stretched and wounded where tide ends. I do not want to walk that way again.