To the maiden The sea was blue meadow, Alive with little froth-people Singing. To the sailor, wrecked, The sea was dead grey walls Superlative in vacancy, Upon which nevertheless at fateful time Was written The grim hatred of nature. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DIRTY OLD MAN by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM WHAT MY LOVER SAID by HOMER GREENE I AM THE WAY' by ALICE MEYNELL THE SPOUSE TO THE BELOVED by WILLIAM BALDWIN THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE WALNUT-TREE OF BOARSTELL: CANTO 3 by WILLIAM BASSE LA BEAUTE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE TOMBS OF THE KINGS by MATHILDE BLIND ON READING OF THE DEATH OF THOMAS WOLFE by MARION LOUISE BLISS |