Explore "The Old Magic" by Edith Nesbit on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
GRAY is the sea, and the skies are gray; / They are ghosts of our blue, bright yesterday; / And gray are the breasts of the gulls that scream / Like tortured souls in an evil dream.
There is white on the wings of the sea and sky, / And white are the gulls' wings wheeling by, / And white, like snow, is the pall that lies / Where love weeps over his memories.
For the dead is dead, and its shroud is wrought / Of good unfound and of wrong unsought; / Yet from God's good magic there ever springs / The resurrection of holy things.
See-the gold and blue of our yesterday / In the eyes and the hair of a child at play; / And the spell of joy that our youth beguiled / Is woven anew in the laugh of the child.