Sunday, May 19, 2019

poem for a sunday morning


by the sea

why does the sea moan evermore?
shut out from heaven it makes its moan,
it frets against the boundary shore;
all earth's full rivers cannot fill
the sea, that drinking thirsteth still.

sheer miracles of lovelinness
lie hid on its unlooked-on bed;
anemones, salt, passionless,
blow flower-like -- just enough alive
to blow and multiply and thrive.

shells quaint with curve or spot or spike
encrusted live things argus-eyed,
all fair alike yet all unlike,
are born without a pang, and die
without a pang, and so pass by.

christina rosetti (1830 - 1894)