The north-cast wind has come from Norroway, <br />Roaring he came above the white waves' tips! <br />The foam of the loud sea was on his lips, <br />And all his hair was salt with falling spray. <br />Over the keen light of northern day <br />He cast his snow cloud's terrible eclipse; <br />Beyond our banks he suddenly struck the ships, <br />And left them labouring on his landward way. <br /> <br />The certain course that to my strength belongs <br />Drives him with gathering purpose and control <br />Until across Vendean flats he sees <br />Ocean, the eldest of his enemies. <br />Then wheels he for him, glorying in goal <br />And gives him challenge, bellowing battle songs.<br /><br />Hilaire Belloc<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/month-of-march-3/
