The Making of a Poem

Last night a passionate tempest shook his soul

With hatred and black anger and despair,

And the dark depths and every foaming shoal

Ran wild as if they fought with the blind air.

To-day the skies unfold their flags of blue,

The crisp white clouds their sails of snow unfurl,

And, on the shore, in colours rich and new

The strange green seas cast up their loosened pearl.