Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/54
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The tides returns into the salty sea,
And sea-fingered rocks are swept and grey—
There are no secrets where the sea has crept,
But the sea
Has kept its ageless mystery.
And we,
Beaten by the returning passional tides,
Searched by the stabbing fingers,
Washed and lapped and worn by the old assault,
And sea-fingered rocks are swept and grey—
There are no secrets where the sea has crept,
But the sea
Has kept its ageless mystery.
And we,
Beaten by the returning passional tides,
Searched by the stabbing fingers,
Washed and lapped and worn by the old assault,
Knowing again
The bitterness of the receding wave,
With renewed wonder facing the old pain,
We are as close
As one wave fallen upon another wave;
We are as far
As the sky's star from the sea-shaken star.
The bitterness of the receding wave,
With renewed wonder facing the old pain,
We are as close
As one wave fallen upon another wave;
We are as far
As the sky's star from the sea-shaken star.
Love is not the moon
Pulling the whole sea up to her,
And there is something darkness understands
These moons know nothing of.
Pulling the whole sea up to her,
And there is something darkness understands
These moons know nothing of.
Poetry, A Magazine of VerseBabette Deutsch
PORTRAITS
I
Keen as the breath of frozen fjords
And poised
Like an adventurous ship with blonde sails flying—
Until you smiled with blue, lit eyes:
The sun
Splintered upon an iceberg's shining flanks.
And poised
Like an adventurous ship with blonde sails flying—
Until you smiled with blue, lit eyes:
The sun
Splintered upon an iceberg's shining flanks.
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