136 FISHERMEN'S MEMORIAL AND RECORD BOOK. 



AFTER THE STORM. 



BT HENBT C. L. HASKELL. 



I would I could paint the picture 



I have only to shut my eyes 

 And a long white reach of sandy beach 



Will straight before me rise. 



And a mass of dusky billows 

 White-maned and tumbling in 



"With a crash and roar to the sandy shore, 

 And a wild and ceaseless din. 



Behind in the west, a rampart 

 Of clouds that are dun and wild, 



And the sun just dips to their crimson tips 

 Where the darkest mass is piled. 



TLere where the waves seem fiercest, 

 IT their maddened rush and roar 



WitL her starboard side to the tossing tide 

 Lien a fated bark, ashore. 



Her tall ir.asts bend as the billows, 

 Rising In stormy might, 



Are a moment seen of a dusky green, 

 Ere falling broken and white. 



I can see her mainmast totter, 

 Then plunge in the seething tide; 



While toward the strand of damp wnite sand 

 The shattered fragments glide. 



There goes the foremast over, 



Whiter the great waves curl; 

 And over her pour with their sullen roar, 



And a madder rush and whirl. 



We turn from the white beach homeward, 



But pause to glance once more ; 

 The moonbeams shine in a silver line 



O'er the waves to the sandy shore. 



For the purple of eve has gathered 

 And spread from the eastern skies ; 



And the billows moan where shattered and 



lone 

 A dreary wreck she lies. 



