Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.
Percy F. Sinnett b 18—The Song of the Wild Storm-Waves
O
What is your tale to-day?
O’er the rocks your white foam splashing,
While the moaning wind your spray
Whirls heavenwards away
In the mist?
Have ye heard the timbers crashing
Of the good ship out at sea?
Seen the masts the dank ropes lashing,
While the sailors bend the knee,
And vainly call on Heaven
To assist?
Oh, ay! we ’ve heard and seen
More than ever you could gather—
More than ever you could glean
From our tale.
We have seen, and heard, and laughed,
As we tossed the shattered craft,
While those on board, aghast,
Every moment thought their last,
In the gale.
And rent their riven sail;
And we laughed our loud Ha! ha!
With the demons of the gale
In their ears.
We have laughed, and heard, and seen,
In the lightning’s lurid sheen,
And the growling thunder’s blast;
And we drowned them all at last
For their fears.
With their little ones in arms;
There were maidens there on board
More lovely in their charms
Than the day;
And again we heard, and laughed
As we dashed across the craft;
While our master shrieked and roared,
As we swept them overboard,
And away.
With their puny human strength.
In our grasp they were as nothing;
Down, down, they sank at length
In the sea;
And still again we screamed,
As the lurid flashes gleamed,
And o’er their heads we swept,
And for joy we danced and leapt
In our glee.
We have to tell to-day,
And now to you we ’ve sung it
In our merry, mocking way.
Do you hear?
How our havoc we have wrought,
And to destruction brought
The treasures of the Earth,
Held by man in price, and worth,
Very dear?
Why rejoice you so to-day?
As shoreward ye come crashing
From your cruel, cruel play;
Why fling ye up your spray
On the shore?
The sand your salt spume splashing,
As ye frolic in your glee;
As the iron rocks ye ’re lashing,
Ye scourges of the sea,—
Will ye never then be glutted
Any more?