A BREATH, Then a growl, And a rising howl, Till the cordage shrieks in the swelling gale; And the ship keels deep to the dreary wail, While the timbers echo the strident tale, The north wind is crying, Is sighing Of death. A breath Through the deep, With a rising sweep, Till the wave looms high with a hissing dash; Till it staggers down with a snarling crash; While the ship lies shuddering 'neath the lash, The wild sea is booming, Is dooming Its death. |