When the dry land appeared, and seas were called By name, there sprang a palpitating line Of shore, -- three days swept by a turbid brine Before a foot of man could stand enthralled. He who has toyed with shores from his first days, Scattering sand in showers, or slipping slow Along a seaweed floor, alone can know The thrill of that sixth day, its long amaze. I may not stand on any wind-cropped hill But I must find somewhere the water's edge; Or own an imagist with any will, Till he knows how waves break upon a ledge. I have indebtedness for one thing more, -- That God made not a man -- and then a shore! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ECSTASY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IRELAND; WRITTEN FOR THE ART AUTOGRAPH DURING IRISH FAMINE by SIDNEY LANIER DEAF HOUSE AGENT by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE SELF-SEEKER by ROBERT FROST ON A VIRTUOUS YOUNG GENTLEWOMAN THAT DIED SUDDENLY by WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT |