Classic Poem

All night the wind blew.
In the morning the deck-hands
were running around to warm up.
The boat rose and fell
on the little waves.
Now and then it hit
a chopping wave.
The wind blew the white caps of the water
into spray.
Far off the wild geese
were flying over the lake.

The lake was ridged with waves,
rolling between the shores.
The northern shore was cliff,
barren of houses or trees;
on the flat southern shore
towns spread out like patches.
There was no rest from the wind:
it blew steadily colder.
The deck-hands ran about,
beating their arms over their breasts.
The wild geese far away
were flying south in squads.