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Augusta Davies Webster - Safe
Work rating: Low

Wild wintry wind, storm through the night, 
         Dash the black clouds against the sky, 
Hiss through the billows seething white, 
         Fling the rock-surf in spray on high. 

Hurl the high seas on harbour bars, 
         Madden them with thy havoc-shriek 
Against the crimson beacon-stars — 
         Thy rage no more can make me weak. 

The ship rides safely in the bay, 
       The ship that held my hope in her — 
Whirl on, wild wind, in thy wild fray, 
       We hear our whispers through the stir.
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