Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Watching by a Sick-Bed
By John Masefield
I
And what it was trying to say.
I heard the wind all night
Rave as it ran to fight;
After the wind the rain,
And then the wind again
Running across the hill
As it runs still.
Would not let the land be,
But all night heaped her sand
On to the land;
I saw her glimmer white
All through the night,
Tossing the horrid hair
Still tossing there.
Felt how the wind was blown;
And all night long the rock
Stood the sea’s shock;
While, from the window, I
Looked out, and wondered why,
Why at such length
Such force should fight such strength.