Poetry Archives

Like the tide—knocking at the hollowed cliff
And running into each green cave as if
    In the cave’s night to keep
    Eternal motion grave and deep;—

That, even while each broken wave repeats
Its answered knocking and with bruised hand beats
    Again, again, again,
    Tossed between ecstasy and pain;

Still in the folded hollow darkness swells,
Sinks, swells, and every green-hung hollow fills,
    Till there’s no room for sound
    Save that old anger rolled around;

So into every hollow cliff of life,
Into this heart’s deep cave so loud with strife,
    In tunnels I knew not,
    In lightless labyrinths of thought,

The unresting tide has run and the dark filled,
Even the vibration of old strife is stilled;
    The wave returning bears
    Muted those time-breathing airs.

—How shall the million-footed tide still tread
These hollows and in each cold void cave spread?
    How shall Love here keep
    Eternal motion grave and deep?