Iii

All day the rain drove, falling Upon the sombre sea; All day, his wet sail hauling, The sailor tacked a-lea; And through the wild rain calling, What was it?--was it he?

At dusk the gull clanged, drifting Above the boiling brine; And, through the wan west sifting, Streamed one red sunset line; And in its wild light shifting, His far sail seemed to shine.

All night the wind wailed, sighing Along the wreck-strewn coast; All night the surf, defying, Rolled thunder in and boast; All night she heard a crying-- The sea? or some lost ghost?