Lincoln Ross Colcord (Линкольн Росс Колкорд)

The Westerlies

Cold winds, dead aft, and heavy running seas
That swung us onward faster than the breeze;
Bleak day, and lurid sunsets, and wild skies,
And lonesomeness that broods as the day dies.
Abandoned course, below the happy world;
A staggering ship, with upper canvas furled,
Flooded by crashing seas, day after day,
In the Roaring Forties, where the wind has its way.

1. Fernando de Noronha
2. Christmas Island
3. Hong Kong
4. To the Memory of My Father
5. The Fishing Fleet

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1185

Последние стихотворения

To English version