Poem by Edwin John Dove Pratt

The Morning Plunge

Clean-limbed and arrowy he shot his way
Into the crystal waters of the bay;
Full thirty-feet below the derrick's beam,
As a lithe salmon, leaping from a stream
Hangs, instant-poised, then arches for the plunge,
Driving with lightning fin a dexterous lunge
Down to his haunts, and trails, enwreathed in mists,
A flock of garnets chasing amethysts.

1. The Ground-Swell
2. The Drowning
3. Dawn!
4. Loss of the Steamship Florizel
5. Ode to December, 1917

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