Smiling, unaware.
I swore my love. And felt your hands
Tremble in my hair.
So swore the netted mackerel
And felt the haul-ropes pull
So swore in the hair of the hurricane
The blind and baffled gull.
ii
Cold end of night where the smoky light
Whirls on the tide-ribbed sand. . .
Above the mist a gull's faint crying
Confounds the sea and land.
I stood by the tangled drift-nets;
The bride-bells searched me down
Uncoiling through the silver mist
Read more in News
Penn Fires Stiegman; No Successor Named