Towards the reef of Norman’s Woe.

And ever, the fitful gusts between,

A sound came from the land;

It was the sound of the trampling surf

On the rocks and hard sea-sand.

The breakers were right beneath her bows,

She drifted a dreary wreck,

And a whooping billow swept the crew

Like icicles from her deck.

She struck where the white and fleecy waves