Page:Poems Thaxter.djvu/143

Howe'er that be—one day in winter weather,
 When the bitter north was raging at its worst,
And wind and cold vexed the roused sea together,
 Till Dante's frozen hell seemed less accurst,

Two fishermen, to draw their trawls essaying,
 Seized by the hurricane that ploughed the bay,
Were swept across the waste; and hardly weighing
 Death's chance, the Rover reefed and bore away

To save them,—reached them, shuddering where they waited
 Their quick destruction, tossing white and dumb,
And caught them from perdition; then, belated,
 Strove to return the rough way she had come.

But there was no returning! Fierce as lightning
 The eager cold grew keener, more intense.
Across her homeward track the billows, whitening,
 In crested mountains rolling, drove her thence;

Till her brave crew, benumbed, gave up the battle,
 Clad in a mail of ice that weighed like lead;
They heard the crusted blocks and rigging rattle,
 They saw the sails like sheets of iron spread;