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Amy Lowell - Storm-Racked
Work rating: Low

How should I sing when buffeting salt waves
 And stung with bitter surges, in whose might
 I toss, a cockleshell?  The dreadful night
Marshals its undefeated dark and raves
In brutal madness, reeling over graves
 Of vanquished men, long-sunken out of sight,
 Sent wailing down to glut the ghoulish sprite
Who haunts foul seaweed forests and their caves.
 No parting cloud reveals a watery star,
My cries are washed away upon the wind,
 My cramped and blistering hands can find no spar,
My eyes with hope o`erstrained, are growing blind.
 But painted on the sky great visions burn,
 My voice, oblation from a shattered urn!
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