XIII.
The storm for a dance is piping,
With bellow and roar and hiss.
Hurrah! how the ship is tossing,
What a merry wild night is this!
A living mountain of water
The sea upheaves with might.
Here an abyss is yawning;
There towers a foaming height.
And sounds of retching and curses
Forth from the cabin come;
And I, to the mast close clinging,
Long to be safe at home.