How near I walked to Love,
How long, I cannot tell.
I was like the Alde that flows
Quietly through green level lands,
So quietly, it knows
Their shape, their greenness and their shadows well;
And then undreamingly for miles it goes
And silently, beside the sea.
Seamews circle over,
The winter wildfowl wings,
Long and green the grasses wave
Between the river and the sea.
The sea's cry, wild or grave,
From bank to low bank of the river rings;
But the uncertain river though it crave
The sea, knows not the sea.
Was that indeed salt wind?
Came that noise from falling
Wild waters on a stony shore?
Oh, what is this new troubling tide
Of eager waves that pour
Around and over, leaping, parting, recalling?…
How near I moved (as day to same day wore)
And silently, beside the sea!
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Comments about this poem (The Alde by John Freeman )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
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- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- All the World's a Stage, William Shakespeare
- Before I Knocked, Dylan Thomas
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