I STOOD by the unvintageable sea Till the wet waves drenched face and hair with spray, The long red fires of the dying day Burned in the west; the wind piped drearily; And to the land the clamorous gulls did flee: 'Alas!' I cried, 'my life is full of pain, And who can garner fruit or golden grain, From these waste fields which travail ceaselessly!' My nets gaped wide with many a break and flaw Nathless I threw them as my final cast Into the sea, and waited for the end. When lo! a sudden glory! and I saw The argent splendour of white limbs ascend, And in that joy forgot my tortured past.
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another classic
Date: 2010-03-17 07:56 pm (UTC)I STOOD by the unvintageable sea
Till the wet waves drenched face and hair with spray,
The long red fires of the dying day
Burned in the west; the wind piped drearily;
And to the land the clamorous gulls did flee:
'Alas!' I cried, 'my life is full of pain,
And who can garner fruit or golden grain,
From these waste fields which travail ceaselessly!'
My nets gaped wide with many a break and flaw
Nathless I threw them as my final cast
Into the sea, and waited for the end.
When lo! a sudden glory! and I saw
The argent splendour of white limbs ascend,
And in that joy forgot my tortured past.
--Oscar Wilde