East and West - Bret Harte - Bog

They ran through the streets of the seaport town; They peered from the decks of the ships that lay: The cold sea-fog that came whitening down Was never as cold or white as they. "Ho, Starbuck and Pinckney and Tenterden! Run for your shallops, gather your men, Scatter your boats on the lower bay." Good cause for fear! In the thick midday The hulk that lay by the rotting pier, Filled with the children in happy play, Parted its moorings, and drifted clear, - Drifted clear beyond the reach or call, - Thirteen children they were in all, - All adrift in the lower bay! Said a hard-faced skipper, "God help us all! She will not float till the turning tide!" Said his wife, "My darling will hear my call, Whether in sea or heaven she bide: " And she lifted a quavering voice and high, Wild and strange as a sea-bird's cry, Till they shuddered and wondered at her side.