SCARCE loosed from Crete -- Then, borne on wings of flame And sleet, The Euroclydon came. Strained yard, bent mast, With fury of his mouth The blast Compels us to the South Canst see, for spume And mist, and writhen air, A loom Of Clauda anywhere? Balked hopes, fooled wit! Ah soul, to gain this loss, Didst quit The shelter of His cross? Dear Lord, if Thou Wouldst walk upon the sea, My prow Unblenched should turn to Thee. Wind roars, wave yelps -- To Thy blest side I'd slip, Use helps, And undergird the ship. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INSCRIPTIONS: 1. FOR A GROTTO by MARK AKENSIDE A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 40 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR by RUDYARD KIPLING RAILROAD RHYME by JOHN GODFREY SAXE SNOWBOUND by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE PROFESSION OF FLATTERY by ANTIPHANES |