Vita Nuova

Oscar Wilde

          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                    10
            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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