Classic Poem

White terror beats against the lowering sky,
Then, wheeling wildly down the ocean-roll,
The wistful wonder of a lonely soul
Sinks in the tempest of mortality;
O that the throbbing heart and straining eye
Might surely win—beyond the thunder-toll,
—Beyond the dying stars—a life made whole
Upon the breast of Love that shall not die:

But while we blindly drive from dust to dust
Confounded in the chaos of a night
With death and hell tumultuous everywhere
We cannot hide our hearts in trembling trust
Or differ from the sea-gull in her flight
Save in this weary wisdom of despair.