Colors

A sudden blast comes down upon the sea

That gathers blackness from an angry green

So dense and dark Apollo’s arrows keen

Fall dead against its thick opacity.

Along the tattered wave burns, dismally,

A seething white in fitful flashes seen;

Till now, gray-robed, the storm’s imperious Queen

Sweeps o’er the deeps and turns them gray as she.

Then west wind wafts her trailing garments back,

And through the rift the sun leaps jubilant;

Translucent emerald floods his dazzling track,

And where the flying shadows fall aslant.,

Imperial purple dyes the weltering scene,

With no atoning tint to mediate between!