The storm is sweeping o'er the land, And raging o'er the sea: It urgeth sharp and dismal sounds, The Psalm of Misery. The straining of the cordage now, The creaking of a spar, The deep dumb shock the vessel feels When billows strike and jar, It breathes of distant seamen's hearts That think upon their wives; Of wretches clinging to the mast, And wrestling for their lives. The clouds are flying through the sky Like spectres of affright: Yon pale witch moon doth blast them all With bleared and ghastly light. Great Demons flutter through the dark Flame touched, with dusky wing; And Passion crouches out of sight Like a forbidden thing. The blast doth scourge the forest through, Great oaks, and bushes small; And God, the fable of the fools, Looks silently on all. Oh! if He watches, as I know, Safe let Him keep our rest, And give my little ones and me The shelter of His breast. No harm shall come on earth, we trust; But, if mischance must be, Most let Him help those weary souls That struggle with the sea! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BETTY TO HERSELF by EDWARD W. BANNARD JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 7 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING EXTEMPORE LINES IN ANSWER TO A CARD by ROBERT BURNS THE HIGHLAND BALOU by ROBERT BURNS COLUMBUS; 1492-1892 by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER |