Page:Hymns of the Marshes.djvu/59

 The whole deep with drown'd commerce choke,

No pitiless tease of risk or bottomry

Would to thy rainy office close

Thy will, or lock mine eyes from tears,

Part wept for traders'-woes,

Part for that ventures mean as those

In issue bind such sovereign hopes and fears.

—Lo, Cloud, thy downward countenance stares

Blank on the blank-faced marsh, and thou

Mindest of dark affairs;

Thy substance seems a warp of cares;

Like late wounds run the wrinkles on thy brow.

Well may'st thou pause, and gloom, and stare,

A visible conscience: I arraign

Thee, criminal Cloud, of rare

Contempts on Mercy, Right, and Prayer,—

Of murders, arsons, thefts,—of nameless stain