Bright drips the morning from its trophied nets Looped along a sky flickering fish and wings, Cobbles like salmon crowd up waterfalling Streets where life dies thrashing at the sea forgets, True widow, what she has lost; and, ravished, lets The knuckledustered sun shake bullying A fist of glory over her. Everything, Even the sly night, gives up its lunar secrets. And I with pilchards cold in my pocket make Red-eyed a way to bed, But in my blood Crying I hear, still, the leap of the silver diver Caught in four cords after his fatal strake: And then, the immense imminence not understood, Death, in a dark, in a deep, in a dream, for ever. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GOOD GREAT MAN by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE TO LUCY, COUNTESS OF BEDFORD, WITH MR. DONNE'S SATIRES by BEN JONSON FOOTLIGHT MOTIFS: 3. GABY DESLYS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS LOVE'S NEW PHILOSOPHY by PHILIP AYRES SHEEP AT MOUNTAIN PASTURE by MARGARET CARROLL BRADY BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY TO THE READER by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |