Nor I, but for that reefer flap
Of moleskin, and this oilskin cap
I found a gunshot from the shore,
I'd know it from a hundred more.
We cannot take him home this way.
'Twould kill the woman straight to lay
The lad like this upon the bed,
And fetch her in to see him dead.
There is a chance she might not know
It was her son—he's battered so.
She'd know him by some canny trace,
Such as that birth-mark on his face,
And, what would smite her like a brand,
This stumped, third finger of his hand.
This coat and cap will tell her all;
We'll get him buried by night-fall;
There is no need to tell her more—
That we found the body on the shore.
V
GREAT TIDES
Great Tides! You filled the reaches
Under the North's wild blow;
Yet could not spare this smaller cup
Its salter overflow.
Huge hands! You rear our bulwarks up
With power to none akin;
Yet cannot lift a door-latch up
That a lad may enter in.
VI
THE AFTER-CALM