“No sail! No sail!” and the sad wife pressed
A wan face close to the window-pane,
But naught she saw but the sea’s white breast
And the long gray lash of the hissing rain.
The night fell black and the wild gale played
In the chimney’s throat a shrill, weird tune,
While into a cloud as if afraid
Stole the ghostly form of the groping moon.
Then the steeds of the sea all landward came,
Each panting courser thundered o’er