Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

NO LUCK, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: No luck? No, hardly a bite today.
Last Line: No luck at all's what I ought to say.


No luck? No, hardly a bite today.
But I hooked the flash of the leaping spray
And netted the glint as the long waves roared
Over the weed-girt ledge and poured
In foaming rills down the smooth black rock.
I shook to the quiver of every shock,
As if the hands of maestro Sea
Were crashing symphonic chords on me.
The salt-cool draught that the southwind bore
Steeped through my lungs to the inmost core
Of being, and with a throb my soul,
Expanding, was one with the silver bowl
Of the open Atlantic, dawn-caressed;
While a schooner swam on my tossing breast
As light as a sliding bubble of foam;
And the tattered splendor of clouds above
Was not too vast for my arms of love.
Then the good hour passed and my feet turned home.
No luck at all? Well, yes, in a way
No luck at all's what I ought to say.





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