 | Poems: Second Series |  |
THE WRECK OF THE INTRINSIC.
All day we listened to a rising gale,That drove the Atlantic billows more and more
Against the bulwarks of the stormy shore:
All day—but with the darkness came a sail—
Came angrier blasts of howling wind and hail:
And for a moment through the thunder roar
Of shivered waves the sweeping tempest bore,
With flakes of flying foam, one helpless wail.
Onward she comes to where the breakers boom,
On through the murky horror of the night—
On till one mountain mass of rolling doom,
One rushing ridge of Ocean glimmering white
Deep in a cliff-girt bay of midnight gloom
Veils her in death for ever from our sight.
| Poems: Second Series | |