Ariadne to Theseus

Over the rugged cliffs, over the gray-green sea, Gray clouds are flying… Not alone do I grieve,—in the gray light of eve Gray gulls are crying.

Once were the breakers still, once on the calm blue wave Sea-mews were dreaming. Now while they startled fly, gray cliffs to grayer sky Echo their screaming.

So too was my own heart bright as the morning sea— Now it is dying. Where white doves made their nest, (and in my aching breast) Gray gulls are crying.