Vita Nuova

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!