Consider the sea's listless chime;
Time's self it is, made audible -
The murmur of the earth's own shell.
Secret continuance sublime
Is the sea's end; our sight may pass
No furlong further. Since time was,
This sound hath told the lapse of time.
No quiet, which is death's - it hath
The mournfulness of ancient life,
Enduring always at dull strife.
As the world's heart of rest and wrath,
Its painful pulse is in the sands.
Last utterly, the whole sky stands
Grey and not known, along this path.
A fitting poem by a great artist to remember not only the endless sea but another great artist: Edgar Allan Poe who died October 7th, 1849. R.I.P.
Header: Portrait of Dante Gabriel Rossetti by William Holman Hunt c 1853 via Wikimedia
5 comments:
That is a good one, Pauline.
RIP E. A. Poe...
A footnote: Rossetti did some excellent illustrations of Poe's works. I think he identified with Poe in many ways.
Thank you, Undine, for an excellent addition to this post. I had a feeling that might be the case, although I wonder that Poe may not have returned the admiration...
The envy of all vampires: The sea, effortlessly immortal.
Very eloquently put, Lou.
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