Vita Nuova

I stood by the unvintageable seaTill the wet waves drenched face and hair with spray,The long red fires of the dying dayBurned 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 grainFrom these waste fields which travail ceaselessly!'My nets gaped wide with many a break and flaw,Natheless I threw them as my final castInto the sea, and waited for the end.When lo! a sudden glory! and I sawFrom the black waters of my tortured pastThe argent splendour of white limbs ascend!