English poem

To A Seabird

Fain would I have thee barter fates with me,-- Lone loiterer where the shells like jewels be, Hung on the fringe and frayed hem of the sea. But no,--'twere cruel, wild-wing'd Bliss! to thee.

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More by William Watson

The Year'S Minstrelsy
Three Eternities
Three Flowers
To A Poet
To Austin Dobson
TO EDWARD CLODD
TO EDWARD DOWDEN
To London, My Hostess

All 142 poems by William Watson