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...AMERICA TO GREAT BRITAIN by WASHINGTON ALLSTON TO THE EVENING STAR by WILLIAM BLAKE HARRY PLOUGHMAN by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS ON HEARING THAT THE STUDENTS OF OUR NEW UNIVERSITY JOINED AGITATION .. by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE CHILD IN A GARDEN by MARIA ABDY AN EPIGRAM ON WOMAN by PHILIP AYRES |