Sable Island
Dark Isle of Mourning--aptly art thou named,
For thou hast been the cause of many a tear;
For deeds of treacherous strife too justly famed,
The Atlantic's charnel--desolate and drear;
A thing none love--though wand'ring thousands fear--
If for a moment rests the Muse's wing
Where through the waves thy sandy wastes appear,
'Tis that she may one strain of horror sing,
Wild as the dashing waves that tempests o'er thee fling.
The winds have been thy minstrels--the rent shrouds
Of hapless barks, twanging at dead of night,
Thy fav'rite harp strings--the shriek of crowds
Clinging around them feebly in their fright,
The song in which thou long hast had delight,
Dark child of ocean, at thy feasts of blood;
When mangled forms, shown by Heaven's lurid light,
Rose to thy lip upon the swelling flood,
While Death, with horrid front, beside thee gloating stood.
As lurks the hungry tiger for his prey,
Low crouch'd to earth with well dissembled mien,
Peace in his eye--the savage wish to slay
Rankling around his heart--so thou art seen
Stretch'd harmlessly on ocean's breast of green,
When winds are hush'd, and sleeps the placid wave
Beneath the evening ray--whose glittering sheen
Gilds the soft swells thy arid folds that lave,
Unconscious that they cling around a yawning grave.
The fascination of the Siren's song,
The shadow of the fatal Upas tree;
The Serpent's eye that lures the bird along
To certain doom--less deadly are than thee
Even in thy hours of calm serenity,
When on thy sands the lazy seals repose,
And steeds, unbridled, sporting carelessly,
Crop the rank grass that on thy bosom grows,
While round the timid hare his glance of caution throws.
But when thy aspect changes--when the storm
Sweeps o'er the wide Atlantic's heaving breast;
When, hurrying on in many a giant form,
The broken waters by the winds are prest--
Roaring like fiends of hell which know no rest,
And guided by the lightning's fitful flash;
Who dares look on thee then--in terror drest,
As on thy length'ning beach the billows dash,
Shaking the heavens themselves with one long deaf'ning crash.
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poem by Joseph Howe
Added by Poetry Lover
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