At the world’s end, the speaker claims a barren, windswept coastline as “ours.” These shores offer nothing soft or fruitful—no fruit, no flowers, only sea-grass beaten hour after hour by the wind. The mood is spare, quiet, and a little defiant. Instead of longing for a richer landscape, the speaker seems to find a strange satisfaction in owning a place no one else would envy or even notice. The two people leave “lost footprints” in sand that is constantly smoothed by the sea, but the sea’s movement is called an “unchanging passion.” That suggests human presence is temporary, while the rhythm of the water is steady and almost devoted. The result is intimate and austere, as if barrenness itself has become a kind of shared, private inheritance.
Land's End — Summary
The shores of the world are ours, the solitary Beaches that bear no fruit, nor any flowers, Only the harsh sea-grass that the wind harries Hours on unbroken hours. No one will envy us these empty reaches At the world’s end, and none will care that we Leave our lost footprints where the sand forever Takes the unchanging passion of the sea.