Page:Poems Thaxter.djvu/94

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AT THE BREAKERS' EDGE.
Through the wide sky Thy north-wind's thunder roars
Resistless, till no cloud is left to flee,
And down the clear, cold heaven unhindered pours
Thine awful moonlight on the winter sea.

The vast, black, raging spaces, torn and wild,
With an insensate fury answer back
To the gale's challenge, hurrying breakers, piled
Each over each, roll through the glittering track.

I shudder in the terror of Thy cold,
As buffeted by the fierce blast I stand,
Watching that shining path of bronzéd gold,
With solemn, shadowy rocks on either hand;

While at their feet, ghastly and white as death,
The cruel, foaming billows plunge and rave.
O Father! where art Thou? My feeble breath
Cries to Thee through the storm of wind and wave.