Poetry Archives

Valiant sons of the sea,
        All the vast deep, your home,
      Holds no terror so dread
As this novel and unseen foe,
        Lurking under the foam
      Of some dangerous channel—
As the torpedo, the scourge of ships.

      Through the rigging may roar
        AEolus’ thousand gales,
      Yet the mariner’s heart
Shrinketh not from the howling blast;
        Though with battle-rent sails,
      Flames and carnage around him,
Cowardice never shall pale his lips.

      But when powers concealed,
        Threatening with death the crew,
      Pave each eddy below,
E’en the bravest are chilled with fear,
        Lest yon wizard in blue,
      Who their progress is spying,
Touch but the key with his finger-tips.

      Lo! with thunderous boom
        Towers a column bright,
      And the vessel is gone!
In that ocean of blinding spray
        Sink her turrets from sight,
      By thy potency broken,
O irresistible scourge of ships!


—Harry Howard.