Page:The Poems of Henry Kendall (1920).djvu/128



in storms, the triple-headed

Hill, whose dreaded

Bases battle with the seas,

Looms across fierce widths of fleeting

Waters beating

Evermore on roaring leas!

Arakoon, the black, the lonely!

Housed with only

Cloud and rain-wind, mist and damp;

Round whose foam-drenched feet and nether

Depths, together

Sullen sprites of thunder tramp!

There the East hums loud and surly,

Late and early,

Through the chasms and the caves,

And across the naked verges

Leap the surges!

White and wailing waifs of waves.

Day by day the sea-fogs gathered—

Tempest-fathered—

Pitch their tents on yonder peak,

Yellow drifts and fragments lying

Where the flying

Torrents chafe the cloven creek!

And at nightfall, when the driven

Bolts of heaven

Smite the rock and break the bluff,

Thither troop the elves whose home is

Where the foam is,

And the echo and the clough.

Ever girt about with noises,

Stormy voices,

And the salt breath of the Strait,