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 teh 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 travel ceaselessly!"
My nets gaped wide with many a break and flaw,
Nathless i threw them as if my final cast
Into to 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.
By: Oscar Wild.