Vita Nuova by Oscar Wilde — Past Poetry archive

I stood by the unvintageable sea Till the wet waves drenched face and hair with spray, The long red fires of the dying day Burned in the west; the wind piped drearily; And to the land the clamorous gulls did flee: “Alas!” I cried, “my life is full of pain, And who can garner fruit or golden grain From these waste fields which travail ceaselessly!” My nets gaped wide with many a break and flaw, Nathless I threw them as my final cast Into the sea, and waited for the end. When lo! a sudden glory! and I saw From the black waters of my tortured past The argent splendour of white limbs ascend!