Poetry Archives

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.