It was as calm as calm could be;
A death-still night in June;
A silver sail on a silver sea,
Under a silver moon.
Not the least low air the still sea stirred;
But all on the dreaming deep
The white ship lay, like a white sea-bird,
With folded wings, asleep.
For a long, long month, not a breath of air;
For a month, not a drop of rain;
And the gaunt crew watched in wild despair,
With a fever in throat and brain.
And they saw the shore, like a dim cloud, stand
On the far horizon-sea;
It was only a day's short sail to the land,
And the haven where they would be.
Too faint to row—no signal brought
An answer, far or nigh.
Father, have mercy; leave them not
Alone, on the deep, to die.
And the gaunt crew prayed on the decks above;
And the women prayed below:
"One drop of rain, for Heaven's great love!
Oh, Heaven, for a breeze to blow!"
But never a shower from the cloud would burst,
And never a breeze would come:
O God, to think that man can thirst
And starve in sight of home!
But out to sea with the drifting tide
The vessel drifted away—
Till the far-off shore, like the dim cloud, died;
And the wild crew ceased to pray!
Like fiends they glared, with their eyes aglow;
Like beasts with hunger wild:
But a mother prayed, in the cabin below,
By the bed of her little child.
It slept, and lo! in its sleep it smiled,—
A babe of summers three:
"O Father, save my little child,
Whatever comes to me!"