Short Poems

On pale, dead men, on burning cheek,
On quick, fierce eyes, brows hot and damp,
On hands that with the warm blood reek,
Shines the dim cabin lamp.
Lee looked. “They sleep so sound,” he, laughing, said
“They'll scarcely wake for mistress or for maid.”

The scream of rage, the groan, the strife,
The blow, the gasp, the horrid cry,
The panting, throttled prayer for life,
The dying's heaving sigh,
The murderer's curse, the dead man's fixed, still glare
And fear's and death's cold sweat,—they all are there.

They're gone.—The helmsman stands alone;
And one leans idly o'er the bow.
Still as a tomb the ship keeps on;
Nor sound nor stirring now.
Hush, hark! as from the centre of the deep,
Shrieks, fiendish yells! They stab them in their sleep.

Moan for the living; moan our sins,—
The wrath of man more fierce than thine.
Hark! still thy waves!—The work begins,—
Lee makes the deadly sign.
The crew glide down like shadows. Eye and hand
Speak fearful meanings through the silent band.

Nor dread of ever-during woe,
Nor the sea's awful solitude,
Can make thee, wretch, thy crime forego.
Then, bloody hand,—to blood!
The scud is driving wildly overhead;
The stars burn dim; the ocean moans its dead.

The workings of the soul ye fear;
Ye fear the power that goodness hath;
Ye fear the Unseen One ever near,
Walking his ocean path.
From out the silent void there comes a cry,—
“Vengeance is mine! Thou, murderer, too, shalt die!”

He cannot look on her mild eye;
Her patient words his spirit quell.
Within that evil heart there lie
The hates and fears of hell.
His speech is short; he wears a surly brow.
There 's none will hear the shriek. What fear ye now?

He wakes!—But no relentings wake
Within his angered, restless soul.
“What, shall a dream Matt's purpose shake?
The gold will make all whole.
Thy merchant trade had nigh unmanned thee, lad!
What, balk my chance because a woman 's sad?”

He sleeps; but dreams of massy gold
And heaps of pearl,—stretches his hands;
But hears a voice,—“Ill man, withhold!”
A pale one near him stands.
Her breath comes deathly cold upon his cheek;
Her touch is cold; he hears a piercing shriek;—

Four teeth of late you had, both black and shaking,
Which durst not chew your meat for fear of aching;
But since your cough, without a barber's aid,
Hath blown them out, you need not be afraid
On either side to chew hard crusts, for sure
Now from the tooth-ache you live most secure.