Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/54

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The tides returns into the salty sea,And sea-fingered rocks are swept and grey—There are no secrets where the sea has crept,But the seaHas kept its ageless mystery.And we,Beaten by the returning passional tides,Searched by the stabbing fingers,Washed and lapped and worn by the old assault,
Knowing againThe bitterness of the receding wave,With renewed wonder facing the old pain,We are as closeAs one wave fallen upon another wave;We are as farAs the sky's star from the sea-shaken star.
Love is not the moonPulling the whole sea up to her,And there is something darkness understandsThese moons know nothing of.
Poetry, A Magazine of VerseBabette Deutsch


PORTRAITS
I
Keen as the breath of frozen fjordsAnd poisedLike an adventurous ship with blonde sails flying—Until you smiled with blue, lit eyes:The sunSplintered upon an iceberg's shining flanks.

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