(On the sinking of the <br />'Titanic' <br />) <br /> <br />The jealous Sea moaned in the April night: <br />'Lo! there are comrades hidden in my heart, <br />Unfortunates who sought me, sick of life. <br />But I am hungry for brave souls; I crave <br />Their warmth and passion through my chilling tides; <br />Their heads upon my bosom, and their hands, <br />Like children's hands, about me in the dark. <br />I need their blood in my cold loneliness.' <br /> <br />A Titan sailed her weary leagues of foam, <br />Unknowing her strange wish, her mad desire. <br />But there was menace in the starlit night, <br />And sudden doom upon deceiving paths, <br />And a wild horror on the mighty deep. <br /> <br />The grey Sea laughed--and drew those brave men down, <br />And braver women who but mocked at Death, <br />Seeing that Love went with them. These the souls <br />The awful Sea desired! These the hearts <br />She waited for in that studendous hour! <br />They were enough to warm the Arctic wastes, <br />To fill with furnace heat the frozen zones, <br />And fire the very Sea that was their grave, <br /> <br />But dream not, mighty Ocean, they are yours! <br />We have them still, those high and valient men <br />Who died that others might reach ports of peace. <br />Not in your jealous depths their spirits roam, <br />But though the world today, and up to heaven!<br /><br />Charles Hanson Towne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-harvest-of-the-sea-2/
