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 bark, you are lifted up, aye--though it hiss to cover you with froth.