When I go up to work the young blue sea <br />Has not awaked from dreams: <br />It fades to meet the blue sky mistily: <br />It gleams. <br />I say, <br />'All day <br />It will not wake from dreams.' <br />And yet, when I come back from work, the sea <br />Has a green sombreness; <br />As if the hours between were somehow hours <br />Of stress. <br />I read <br />Its need <br />Of dim forgetfulness.<br /><br />Lesbia Harford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-i-go-up-to-work-the-young-blue-sea/
