Poems . Normans Woe. And ever the fitful gusts between A sound came from the land ;It was the sound of the trampling surf, On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. The breakers were right beneath her bows, She drifted a dreary wreck,And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck. She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool,But the cruel rocks, they gored her side Like the horns of an angry bull. Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice,With the masts, went by the board; Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank,Ho! ho ! the breakers roared! At daybreak,
Poems . Normans Woe. And ever the fitful gusts between A sound came from the land ;It was the sound of the trampling surf, On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. The breakers were right beneath her bows, She drifted a dreary wreck,And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck. She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool,But the cruel rocks, they gored her side Like the horns of an angry bull. Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice,With the masts, went by the board; Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank,Ho! ho ! the breakers roared! At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast,To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast. 208 BALLADS. The salt sea was frozen on her breast, The salt tears in her eyes;And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, On the billows fall and rise. Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,In the midnight and the snow! Christ save us all from a death like this,On the reef of Normans Woe!. -^r*
Size: 2180px × 1146px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorlongfellowhenrywadswo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1850
