Harper's Magazine/Volume 24/No 21/Shipwreck

​

SHIPWRECK.

BY R. S.CHILTON.

A long, low reach of level sand, Packed erewhile by the maddened waves As the storm-wind drove them toward the land:  A boat on the shore and nothing more  To tell of the dead who sank to their graves,   To the sound of the wild sea's roar.
​
The ship went down at night, they say,  Wrestling with wind and wave to the last, Like a great sea-monster fighting at bay:   The fisherman tells how he heard the bells  Ring in the lulls of the pitiless blast,   Mingled with wild farewells.
The winds are asleep, and the sea is still— Still as the wrecked beneath its waves, Dreamless of all life's good or ill:  A boat on the shore and nothing more  Tells of the dead who sank to their graves,   To the sound of the wild sea's roar.

This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.