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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
NO LUCK, by CHARLES WHARTON STORK Poet's Biography First Line: No luck? No, hardly a bite today. Last Line: No luck at all's what I ought to say. | |||
No luck? No, hardly a bite today. But I hooked the flash of the leaping spray And netted the glint as the long waves roared Over the weed-girt ledge and poured In foaming rills down the smooth black rock. I shook to the quiver of every shock, As if the hands of maestro Sea Were crashing symphonic chords on me. The salt-cool draught that the southwind bore Steeped through my lungs to the inmost core Of being, and with a throb my soul, Expanding, was one with the silver bowl Of the open Atlantic, dawn-caressed; While a schooner swam on my tossing breast As light as a sliding bubble of foam; And the tattered splendor of clouds above Was not too vast for my arms of love. Then the good hour passed and my feet turned home. No luck at all? Well, yes, in a way No luck at all's what I ought to say. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DREAM OF ENGLAND by CHARLES WHARTON STORK A WOMAN SPEAKS by CHARLES WHARTON STORK AUTUMNAL ECSTASY by CHARLES WHARTON STORK BEAUTY'S BURDEN by CHARLES WHARTON STORK DEATH - DIVINIATION by CHARLES WHARTON STORK EDVARD GRIEG by CHARLES WHARTON STORK FLYING FISH: AN ODE by CHARLES WHARTON STORK FUNGI by CHARLES WHARTON STORK IN EARTHEN VESSELS by CHARLES WHARTON STORK LEAF-MOULD by CHARLES WHARTON STORK LLEWELLYN, PRINCE OF CAMBRIA; A WELSH BALLAD by CHARLES WHARTON STORK SESQUICENTENNIAL ODE; FOR JULY 24, 1926 by CHARLES WHARTON STORK |
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