Small yellow stones

That, lifted, through my idle fingers fall

Leaving a score —

And these I toss between the parted lips

Of the lapping sea,

And the sea tosses again with millions more —

Yellow and white stones;

Then drawing back her snaky long waves all,

Leaves the stones

Yellow and white upon the sandy shore. ...

As they were bones

Yellow and white left on the silent shore

Of an unfoaming far unvisioned Sea.

Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.