Vita Nuova

Oscar Wilde

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
    The argent splendour of white limbs ascend,
    And in that joy forgot my tortured past.