Have you ever heard of Naic Beach
Where the spent waves sob and hiss,
And the men whose shame conceals
Try to find a moment's bliss
In the telling of age old stories
And the singing of golden songs
Of a woman's hand in another land
And forget their little wrongs?
There is little of boasting at Naic
For the truth exceeds the lie.
A lie is weak when the seas are bleak
And must must silent die.
Strange names are heard at Naic,
Palowan, Saigon, Samar--
There is nothing said but they nod their head
For they all know where they are.
(Fafaia was the name of a poem by
Rupert Brooks, 1913.)