He saw her yard tilt downwards. Then the snow
Whirled all about—dense, multitudinous, cold—
Mixed with the wind’s one devilish thrust and shriek,
Which whiffled out men’s tears, defeated, took hold,
Flattening the flying drift against the cheek.
The yards buckled and bent, man could not speak.
The ship lay on her broadside; the wind’s sound
Had devilish malice at having got her downed....
How long the gale had blown he could not tell,
Only the world had changed, his life had died.