avenrood

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.