Shall I rebuke thee, Ocean, my old love,
That once, in rage, with the wild winds at strife,
Thou darest menace my unit of a life,
Sending my clay below, my soul above,
Whilst roar'd thy waves, like lions when they rove
By night, and bound upon their prey by stealth!
Yet didst thou n'er restore my fainting health?—
Didst thou ne'er murmur gently like the dove?
Nay, dost thou not against my own dear shore
Full break, last link between my land and me?—
My absent friends talk in thy very roar,
In thy waves' beat their kindly pulse I see,
And, if I must not see my England more,
Next to her soil, my grave be found in thee!
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Comments
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i wish i knew how to write it
From guest vincent (contact)
i wish i knew how to write one i tried and had onl one quantrain done
welll anyway your poem is good keep up the good work with the sonnet
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Well now! There's a hearty fling!
From guest J.Page (contact)
You have an artists grasp of language, surely. The tale may be better though, if we kept the language a tad more modern. Shall, Thou, Didst, Dost, ect... Good for ancient poets, blaze' for this era, you obviously have the skill for the art, no doubt, If it's working for you, disregard what I say. I love the poem myself, though few publisher these days accept the old artful ways. Thank you for sharing this wonderful peice. J.S. Page
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