The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith ... Revised by the Author: Coll. ed. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
Muriel stood with her husband and her babes,
Calm, on the poop. She saw the dim grey sea
Deceitful, and the shore loomed through the mist,
Uncertain, for there was no gleam of light
From fisher's hut or farm; a lone waste land
Of unthrift and neglected husbandry,
Where neither glebe nor sea was harvested.
Then, holding fast her little ones, her face
Just a shade paler—it was always pale—
She said in a low voice: You can swim, Malcolm;
The shore is near, I think a sandy shore
By the dull thud o' the waves; could you not save
Some mother and her child, setting example
Others might follow? Oh, we're not afraid,
My little ones and I; God cares for us;
And you will come too ere the danger comes.
The Captain says the ship will float an hour
At least, and it is misery to see
Those faces, and to hear the bitter cries.
Nay, not us first! but speak a word to them,
And show them what to do; we can be still,
But they are frantic, and their madness works
Their ruin; we will wait in patience here.
Try, dearest; you are strong and brave; but yet
Be not too bold, your life is all to us.
Oh, can God hear that cry, and help them not?
Calm, on the poop. She saw the dim grey sea
Deceitful, and the shore loomed through the mist,
Uncertain, for there was no gleam of light
From fisher's hut or farm; a lone waste land
Of unthrift and neglected husbandry,
Where neither glebe nor sea was harvested.
Then, holding fast her little ones, her face
Just a shade paler—it was always pale—
She said in a low voice: You can swim, Malcolm;
The shore is near, I think a sandy shore
By the dull thud o' the waves; could you not save
Some mother and her child, setting example
Others might follow? Oh, we're not afraid,
My little ones and I; God cares for us;
And you will come too ere the danger comes.
The Captain says the ship will float an hour
At least, and it is misery to see
Those faces, and to hear the bitter cries.
Nay, not us first! but speak a word to them,
And show them what to do; we can be still,
But they are frantic, and their madness works
Their ruin; we will wait in patience here.
Try, dearest; you are strong and brave; but yet
Be not too bold, your life is all to us.
Oh, can God hear that cry, and help them not?
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |