for Alfred Lord Tennyson
Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.
-Alfred Lord Tennyson
in some sonorous summer
with the blackbirds full in the trees
they will address old grievances
the waves and the shore
I don't know how we will hear then then
when even now we seem blind to music
will moonlight intervene
will the waves dash suddenly against the sun
icarian waves I thought
absentmindedly
will they dry up
leaving the sea of imagination
overcome
leaving us to look frantically for the old poems
like Tennyson's with the sea wall of grief
so early breached
spring's heart turned to winter's; numbed.
mary angela douglas 9 august 2023;10 august 2023
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