VIII

Ah! pity her, who needed it most —

But in the village along the coast

Are those who tremble and moan,

Seeming to wait alone

For a dreadful something unknown,

As the tempest travels gathering force

And sobs and howls and raves and roars

And laughs like a demon band,

And the great waves clamber into the bay

With voices triumphant which seem to say

“Hurrah! Hurrah! we have found a prey

But we seek another on land.”

Ah! shivering fisherwife in your shawl,

Perhaps they have found a prey

Who leap and shout in the bay,

And you will weep for the grief of it all

For many and many a day.