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LONG BEACH
Black with the raging fury of despair,
Against the reefs of scarred outlying stone
The waves break baffled; and uprearing shown
Along the ramparts, menacing and bare,
Medusa heads, with wild and tangled hair
From wrinkled foreheads backward streaming blown,
In bas-relief are on the canvas thrown,
Hissing and snaky for an instant there.
Yet, looking on such writhing shapes as these
And marking how the white-maned squadrons form
A Triton's conch-shell, shrilled in wind-swept keys,
The battle-spirit in my veins grows warm.
I feel myself in kinship with the seas,
A Viking, and a comrade of the storm.
108
