Drowned, say you? Tell me, tell me, how she fares, My drowned one? Has she met the finny shoal? And rolled into that glancing march of theirs Her attitudes of death, with no control Of living will? Perchance, her feeble form Falters about wild headlands in the dark, Where no expectant mother's voice bids 'Hark! 'Tis our own Mary!' Or the tropic storm, With its fierce lightning rends her lonely face; Or waterspouts, with writhing motion, suck At her dear relics; prey-birds bless their luck To find her; or the shark and sea-dog trace From far my fair-eyed fondling - cruel chase After a helpless prey, already struck! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A WOMAN'S SHORTCOMINGS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING RAIN IN SUMMER by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW HOPE AND FEAR by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE TO A THESAURUS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE COMMON A-TOOK IN by WILLIAM BARNES BLACKSMITH PAIN by OTTO JULIUS BIERBAUM A SKIER by ARTHUR STANLEY BOURINOT SONG by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: A L'ENTRESOL by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |