Page:Poems Shore.djvu/71

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The Pirate's Dream
How pale they look! along the plank
See how unwillingly they go!
That captain's face, before he sank,
How black it was with rage and woe!
That fair-haired lad, who went the last,
What piteous looks on me he cast!

But will those shrieks be never still!
Will those drowned seamen never rest?
Each billow swells into a hill,
With a wan visage for 1ts crest.
They call the winds to drive us down—
What's this? She sinks—I drown, I drown!

July 6, 1844.

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