Melville Madison Bigelow (1846–1921)

ALL sodden yesterday were sea and sky;

A rood, perhaps, beyond the strand—not more—

The straining eye could dimly pierce. The roar

Of reefs unseen died in a sullen sigh.

Crept shuddering back ships that would blasts defy;

In shrouds close, wet, and chill they hugged the shore,

While momently, that waste of waters o’er,

The deep-mouthed fog-horn poured a moaning cry.

To-day the merry Morn, with glorious flight,

Wheels up the jocund East, and gilds the deep.

The ships of yesterday, aglow with light,

Crowd on full sail, and seaward lordly sweep;

And I, I gaze with glad but baffled sight,

That from such boding gloom such life can leap.