'TWAS a fierce night when old Mawgan died, Men shudder'd to hear the rolling tide: The wreckers fled fast from the awful shore, They had heard strange voices amid the roar. "Out with the boat there," some one cried, -- "Will he never come? we shall lose the tide: His berth is trim and his cabin stor'd, He's a weary long time coming on board." The old man struggled upon the bed: He knew the words that the voices said; Wildly he shriek'd as his eyes grew dim, "He was dead! he was dead! when I buried him." Hark yet again to the devilish roar, "He was nimbler once with a ship on shore; Come! come! old man, 't is a vain delay, We must make the offing by break of day." Hard was the struggle, but at the last, With a stormy pang old Mawgan past, And away, away, beneath their sight, Gleam'd the red sail at pitch of night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON LADY POLTAGRUE: A PUBLIC PERIL by HILAIRE BELLOC LOVE IN TWILIGHT by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE WOMAN'S GENITALS by HAYDEN CARRUTH BUT NOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BOYHOOD FRIENDS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: DOMESDAY BOOK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SARAH'S MONSTERS by KAREN SWENSON TOWERS OF SIMON RODIA; FOR HOWARD W. SWENSON 1903-1081 by KAREN SWENSON |