 | Christ's Company and Other Poems |  |
77
The Sole Survivor.
Blood, blood, blood in the morning sky,Dropping from the clouds on high
Down into the sea beneath.
Death, death is in the slaty storm,
Whose latest volume vanisheth;
In the heart of its wild form
It rolls the fragment of my wreck:
The moon above it waits to die,
Waning to a ghostly speck
In the bloody morning sky,
Ghost of those who fled in death
And whose grave is underneath.
I am very lone.
The cold blue billows race along
These abject sands in ceaseless throng;
If the sun should rise to-day
They will be purple and scarlet grey:
I only feel alone.
If I did leap into the sea,
They would do the same to me.
| Christ's Company and Other Poems | |