Poems (Cromwell)/The Deep
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.