Drift-Weed

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. The day is bitter. Through the hollow sky Rolls the clear sun, inexorably bright, Glares on the shrinking earth, a lidless eye, Shedding no warmth, but floods of blinding light. The hurricane roars loud. The facile sea With passionate resentment writhes and raves Beneath its maddening whip, and furiously Responds with all the thunder of its waves. The iron rock, ice — locked, snow-sheathed, lies still, The centre of this devastated world, Beaten and lashed by wind and sea at will, Buried in spray by the fierce breakers hurled.