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...TYRANNICK [TYRANNIC] LOVE: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN ON STURMINSTER FOOT-BRIDGE by THOMAS HARDY A COMPARISON OF THE LIFE OF MAN by RICHARD BARNFIELD AMBITION by MILDRED TELFORD BARNWELL PSALM 22. DEUS DEUS MEUS by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE WILLIAM COWPER by WILLIAM BLAKE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 10 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |