Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/135

Rh But, friend, the night is black;

Behold the driving rack

And wild seas under!"

My straight and narrow bark

Fears not the threatening dark,

Nor storm, nor thunder."

II

But O, thy children dear!

Thy wife,—she is not here,—

I haste to bring her!"

No, no, it is too late!

Hush, hush! I may not wait,

Nor weep, nor linger."

IV

Hark! Who is he that knocks

With slow and dreadful shocks

The walls to sever?"

It is my Master's call,

I go, whate'er befall;

Farewell forever."

A LAMENT

FOR THE DEAD OF THE JEANNETTE BROUGHT HOME ON THE FRISIA

I

of ice! long have ye held our loved ones.

Ye Cruel! how could ye keep from us them for whom our hearts yearned—our dear ones, our fathers, our children, our brothers, our lovers?