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Poems for the Sea.
And at last, with scorn release him
From worse shipwreck than the deep.
To his household-hearth it creepeth,
And the fire in winter dies;
There, a lonely woman weepeth,
While the famished infant cries.
Bloated form and brow it bringeth,
Limbs that totter to and fro,
And like fiery scorpion stingeth,
To an agony of woe.
Round the faltering feet it weaveth
Snares that blind the eyes in gloom,
Sin it sows, and shame receiveth,
Frowns of hate, and deeds of doom.
Bitter words of strife it teacheth,
Striketh kind affections dead;
Even beyond the grave it reacheth,
To the judgment-bar of dread.
