The sea is a soft bed with a thick, thick covering
of drifted sea-moss, where the tender green
of the cool sea-plant, is softly
fringed with floating
eve,
as it one sea-rose is frail. The long weary chains
offold time
repose in the mirrors of silver sand,
and gray of water
is fading, fading. In long light, with
weary seas that ease
from the blue day.

She shall not sleep, nor dwell
under cool, cool star,
for the wildness heard,
can hear the far booms
from the quiet face
of the incomparable sea.

• HD Hilda Doolittle