English poem
MIST AT SEA
by Clinton Scollard (1860–1932)
The sea was mist-enwreathed at morn, A void unspeakably forlorn; Yet from the seeming barren gloom Beauty, the dream of the world, was born.
A sudden wafture of wind breath, And lo, sun glories none gainsaith! Thus shall the wings of the soul emerge White from the chrysalis of death.