Poems (Cromwell)/The Deep

by Gladys Cromwell

THE DEEP

I must have peace, increasing peace;
 Oh, not a brave,
A fleeting interval between
 Each breaking wave:

Oh, not a treacherous pause between
 The gathering gales;
Nor rest in the white fleece of cloud
 Cold winter trails;

Oh, not a temporal winter, not
 A fitful sleep;
But such a lasting winter as
 Dark oceans keep.

Beneath all tides there sleeps a depth
 Of cold fecundity,—
A zone that spins and spins a fine
 Transparency.

There must be such a wintry zone
 For teeming thought,
Where forms the mildest ray would crush
 Are slowly wrought;

Where floating shapes of stars and leaves
 Are free to dwell,
And feel the quietude of Life's
 Eternal spell.

I must have peace, and so in some
 Dark peace I trust,
Where thoughts like stars and leafage can
 Be spun from dust.