Sweeping
it all away –
The
wave upon the strand
Disappeared
completely –
My
buildings made of sand
Flattened
– Smoothed out to zero
Was
sand with sand again
Vanity
dealt its death blow
Nothing
left to see
And
the little purple seashells
That
did stud my vanquished walls
Taken
of the stealing surge --
Treasured
of the storm
For
opened up to us in time
That
splendid force of love
That
stoops to shape its object
That
takes away to give
It
runs its full course
Completes
its plan and
Back
the purple seashells run
To
tumble on the strand.
*
No comments:
Post a Comment