Page:American Poetry 1922.djvu/158



and wave and the swinging rope Were calling me last night; None to save and little hope, No inner light.

Each snarling lash of the stormy sea Curled like a hungry tongue. One desperate splash—and no use to me The noose that swung!

Death reached out three crooked claws To still my clamoring pain. I wheeled about, and Life's gray jaws Grinned once again.

To sea I gazed, and then I turned Stricken toward the shore, Praying half-crazed to a moon that burned Above your door.

And at your door, you discovered me; And at your heart, I sobbed. . . And if there be more of eternity Let me be robbed. 144