The Cold Divinities

I should have been delighted there to hear

The woman and the boy,

Singing along the shore together.

Lightly the shawl and shoulder of the sea

Upbore the plume and body of one gull

Dropping his lines.


Loping behind a stone too large for waves

To welter down like pumice without sound,

Laughing his languages awake, that boy

Flung to his mother, on a wrack of weeds,

Delicate words, a whisper like a spume

Fluting along the edges of the shore.


I should have been delighted that the cries

Of fishermen and gulls

Faded among the swells, to let me

Gather into the fine seines of my ears

The frail fins of their voices as they sang:

My wife and child.


Lovely the mother shook her hair, so long

And glittering in its darkness, as the moon

In the deep lily-heart of the hollowing swells

Flamed toward the cold caves of the evening sea:

And the fine living frieze of her Greek face;

The sea behind her, fading, and the sails.


I should have been delighted for the gaze,

The billowing of the girl,

The bodying skirt, the ribbons falling;

I should have run to gather in my arms

The mother and the child who seemed to live

Stronger than stone and wave.


But slowly twilight gathered up the skiffs

Into its long grey arms; and through the sea

Grew kind as possible to wrack-splayed birds;

And though the sea like woman vaguely wept;

She could not hide her clear enduring face,

Her cold divinities of death and change.


The Yale Review is committed to publishing pieces from its archive as they originally appeared, without alterations to spelling, content, or style. Occasionally, errors creep in due to the digitization process; we work to correct these errors as we find them. You can email [email protected] with any you find.

James Wright (1927–1980) was an American poet and a recipient of the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. His work includes Saint Judas and The Branch Will Not Break.
Originally published:
December 1, 1957

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