Author Richard Henry Dana “Ask him who floats there; let him tell; I make the brute, not man, my mark. Who walks the cliffs, needs heed him well! Last night was fearful dark.Think ye the lashing waves will spare or feel?An ugly gash!—These rocks—they cut like steel.” Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments