Vita Nuova by 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 / From the black waters of my tortured past / The argent splendour of white limbs ascend!