The Golden Helm

The Golden Helm

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Description

Through skies blown clear by storm, o'er storm-spent seas, Day kindled pale with promise of full noon Of blue unclouded; no night-weary wind Ruffled the slumberous, heaving deeps to white, Though round the Farne Isles the waves never sink In foamless sleep--about the pillared crags For ever circling with unresting spray. At dawn's first glimmer, from his island-cell-- Rock-hewn, secure from tempest--Oswald came With slow and weary step, white-faced and worn With night-long vigil for storm-perilled souls. His anxious eye with sharp foreboding bright-- He scanned the treacherous flood; the long froth-trail That marks the lurking reefs; the jag-toothed chasms Which, foaming, gape at night beneath the keel-- The mouth of hell to storm-bewildered ships: But no scar-stranded vessel met his glance.show more

Product details

  • Paperback | 62 pages
  • 152.4 x 228.6 x 3.56mm | 140.61g
  • Createspace
  • United States
  • English
  • black & white illustrations
  • 1514221683
  • 9781514221686