I love the sea, its mystery, And surging tides have talked to me. The rush and roar of surf tossed high Till blue of water meets blue of sky, But I cannot leave my inland dwelling To watch the tides receding, swelling; So old King Winter brings to me His imitation of the sea. By my north door he likes to blow A miniature wave of purest snow; A downy crest of no mean height He whirls on the South for my delight. The meadow broad where we cut sweet hay Is now a still, white, frozen bay. Wind roars like surf on my icy strand, Sleet strikes the panes and sounds like sand. And winter holds for me a charm On my snow-blocked New England farm. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMING BRAVES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO JOHN BROWN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BEFORE A PAINTING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TO OUR MOCKING-BIRD; DIED OF A CAT, MAY, 1878 by SIDNEY LANIER THE NEW APOCRYPHA: BUSINESS REVERSES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DILIGENCE IS TO MAGIC AS PROGRESS IS TO FLIGHT by MARIANNE MOORE |