Through the yellow sailed fishers. Then suddenly
Came sharp forked fire! Then far thunder fell
Like the great first gun! Ah, then there was route
Of ships like the breaking of regiments
And shouts as if hurled from an upper hell.
Then tempest! It lifted, it spun us about,
Then shot us ahead through the hills of the sea
As if a great arrow shot shoreward in wars--
Then heaven split open till we saw the blown stars.

XIV.

On! On! Through the foam, through the storm, through the town,
She was gone. She was lost in the wilderness
Of palaces lifting their marbles of snow.
I stood in my gondola. Up and all down
I pushed through the surge of the salt-flood street
Above me, below. . . Twas only the beat
Of the sea's sad heart. . . Then I heard below
The water-rat building, but nothing but that;
Not even the sea bird screaming distress,
As she lost her way in that wilderness.

XV.

I listened all night. I caught at each sound;
I clutched and I caught as a man that drown'd. . . .
Only the sullen low growl of the sea
Far out the flood street at the edge of the ships.
Only the billow slow licking his lips,