The Moonlight Sonata

My soul storm-beaten as an ancient pier

Stands forth into the sea; wave on slow wave

Of shining music, luminous and grave,

Lifting against me, pouring through me, here

Find wafts of unforgotten chords, which rise

And droop like clinging sea-weed. You, so white,

So still, so helpless on this fathomless night

Float like a corpse with living, tortured eyes.

Deep waves wash you against me; you impart

No comfort to my spirit, give no sign

Your inarticulate lips can taste the brine

Drowning the secret timbers of my heart.