A Soft Sea washed around the House
A Soft Sea washed around the House
A Sea of soft, soft sand—
Nothing but a wisdom change
Can make this wise and grand—

That Sea took all Mary Jane
And he could not make it clear
For all the little stitch of thought
Was silken on the air—

Brown crickets creeping hitherward
And crickets creeping there
But then the Sea will make it good
If they only fix their hair—

So let it weave the just, true thread
And towards the light a day
A Sea of soft, soft sand—
With an honest tree afloat—

So shall I care a—wound at all
While Mary Jane’s adrift—
I saw the softest Sea around
It was a soft gift.

• Emily Dickinson