Of shipwreck'd sailors; for Disaster paves
The fearful fields where reapers cannot reap.
III.
Out there, in islands where the summer sun
Goes down in tempest, there are loathsome things
That crawl to shore, and flap unsightly wings.
But here there are no monsters that can run
To catch the limbs of bathers; no! not one;
And here the wind is harmless when it stings.
IV.