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Poem by Amy Lowell


Storm-Racked


How should I sing when buffeting salt waves
And stung with bitter surges, in whose might
I toss, a cockleshell?  The dreadful night
Marshals its undefeated dark and raves
In brutal madness, reeling over graves
Of vanquished men, long-sunken out of sight,
Sent wailing down to glut the ghoulish sprite
Who haunts foul seaweed forests and their caves.
No parting cloud reveals a watery star,
My cries are washed away upon the wind,
My cramped and blistering hands can find no spar,
My eyes with hope oerstrained, are growing blind.
But painted on the sky great visions burn,
My voice, oblation from a shattered urn!



Amy Lowell


Amy Lowell's other poems:
  1. The Fool Errant
  2. The Boston Athenaeum
  3. Frankincense and Myrrh
  4. The Bungler
  5. The Painter on Silk


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