Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
England: Vols. I–IV. 1876–79.
The Steamship
By Oliver Wendell Holmes (18091894)S
The ridged and rolling waves,
As, crashing o’er their crested heads,
She bows her surly slaves!
With foam before and fire behind,
She rends the clinging sea,
That flies before the roaring wind,
Beneath her hissing lee.
With heaped and glistening bells,
Falls round her fast in ringing showers,
With every wave that swells;
And, flaming o’er the midnight deep,
In lurid fringes thrown,
The living gems of ocean sweep
Along her flashing zone.
And smoking torch on high,
When winds are loud, and billows reel,
She thunders foaming by!
When seas are silent and serene,
With even beam she glides,
The sunshine glimmering through the green
That skirts her gleaming sides.
She veils her shadowy form,
The beating of her restless heart
Still sounding through the storm;
Now answers, like a courtly dame,
The reddening surges o’er,
With flying scarf of spangled flame,
The Pharos of the shore.
Who trims his narrowed sail;
To-night yon frigate scarce shall keep
Her broad breast to the gale;
And many a foresail, scooped and strained,
Shall break from yard and stay,
Before this smoky wreath has stained
The rising mist of day.
I see yon quivering mast;
The black throat of the hunted cloud
Is panting forth the blast!
An hour, and, whirled like winnowing chaff,
The giant surge shall fling
His tresses o’er yon pennon-staff,
White as the sea-bird’s wing!
Nor wind nor wave shall tire
Those fleshless arms, whose pulses leap
With floods of living fire;
Sleep on,—and when the morning light
Streams o’er the shining bay,
O, think of those for whom the night
Shall never wake in day!