Was slopp’d out of her seat,—and Mr. Hitchin
Had a flow’r-garden wash’d into a Kitchen.
SHE FROM OCEAN RISING.
But still the sea was mild, and quite disclaim’d
The recent violence.—Each after each
The gentle waves a gentle murmur framed,
Tapping, like Woodpeckers, the hollow beach.
Howbeit his weather eye the seaman aim’d
Across the calm, and hinted by his speech