| |
| THE STORM-WIND moans through branches bare; | |
| The snow flies wildly through the air; | |
| The mad waves roar, as fierce and high | |
| They toss their crests against the sky. | |
| |
| Dark and desolate lies the sand | 5 |
| Along the wastes of a barren land; | |
| And rushing on, with sheets flung free, | |
| A ship sails down from the northern sea. | |
| |
| With lips pressed hard the helmsman stands, | |
| Grasping the spokes with freezing hands, | 10 |
| While white the reef lies in his path, | |
| Swept by an ocean full of wrath. | |
| |
| The surf-roar in the blast is lost; | |
| The foam-flakes by the wild wind tost | |
| High up in air, no warning show, | 15 |
| Hid by the driving mass of snow. | |
| |
| With sudden bound and sullen grate, | |
| The brave ship rushes to her fate, | |
| And splintered deck and broken mast | |
| Make homage to the roaring blast. | 20 |
| |
| Amid the waves float riven plank, | |
| And rope and sail with moisture dank; | |
| And faces gleaming stern and white | |
| Shine dimly in the storm-filled night. | |
| |
| By some bright river far away, | 25 |
| Fond hearts are wondering where they stay | |
| Who sleep along the wave-washed shore | |
| And stormy reefs of Labrador. | |
| |
