Henry Alford - Sonnet LXXXV. On My Stone Inkstand.

Henry Alford - Sonnet LXXXV. On My Stone Inkstand.

Loud raged the tumult: Ocean far and near br Seethed with wild anger, up the sloping sand br Driving the shreds of foam; while, half in fear, br We battled with the tempest, on the strand br Scarcely upheld; or, clinging arm to arm, br In wedge compact:--now would we venture brave br Into the trench of the retreating wave; br Now shoreward flee, with not all--feigned alarm. br A challenge did my gentle sister speak: br ``Yon pebble fetch, 'mongst those that furthest roll, br Pierced on one face with an unsightly hole!'' br Beneath a crested wave, that curled to break, br I grasped the prize, not scathless; and since then br That stone hath held the stuff that feeds my truant pen.


User: PoemHunter.com

Views: 6

Uploaded: 2014-06-16

Duration: 00:51