Цитаты из книги Sea Garden

Wind rushes over the dunes, and the coarse, salt-crusted grass answers. Heu, it whips round my ankles!

THEY say there is no hope— sand—drift—rocks—rubble of the sea— the broken hulk of a ship, hung with shreds of rope, pallid under the cracked pitch. they say there is no hope to conjure you— no whip of the tongue to anger you— no hate of words you must rise to refute.

SEA VIOLET THE white violet is scented on its stalk, the sea-violet fragile as agate, lies fronting all the wind among the torn shells on the sand-bank. The greater blue violets flutter on the hill, but who would change for these who would change for these one root of the white sort? Violet your grasp is frail on the edge…

SEA ROSE ROSE, harsh rose, marred and with stint of petals, meagre flower, thin, sparse of leaf, more precious than a wet rose single on a stem— you are caught in the drift. Stunted, with small leaf, you are flung on the sand, you are lifted in the crisp sand that drives in the wind. Can the spice-rose drip such acrid…

Hermes, Hermes, the great sea foamed, gnashed its teeth about me; but you have waited, where sea-grass tangled with shore-grass.

he had crowded the city so full that men could not grasp beauty, beauty was over them, through them, about them no crevice unpacked with the honey, rare, measureless

SEA POPPIES AMBER husk fluted with gold, fruit on the sand marked with a rich grain, treasure spilled near the shrub-pines to bleach on the boulders: your stalk has caught root among wet pebbles and drift flung by the sea and grated shells and split conch-shells. Beautiful, wide-spread, fire upon leaf, what meadow yields…

I HAVE had enough. I gasp for breath. Every way ends, every road, every foot-path leads at last to the hill-crest— then you retrace your steps, or find the same slope on the other side, precipitate.

SEA LILY REED, slashed and torn but doubly rich— such great heads as yours drift upon temple-steps, but you are shattered in the wind. Myrtle-bark is flecked from you, scales are dashed from your stem, sand cuts your petal, furrows it with hard edge, like flint on a bright stone. Yet though the whole wind slash at your…