Ice Floes
Cold: cold the glitter of the steel-gray deep!
A nor’ land fleet comes drifting down the bay,
Turretless “monitors” in close array –
That slowly out against the long swell, creep,
While heave their clashing hulks, as if in sleep
Some wine-drenched, monster son of Anak lay,
Making the scales of his vast armor sway
And crackle with his breathing! On they sweep,
But a more subtle and resistless foe
Than that which strewed the Armada’s sails like chaff,
Attacks the invading Vikings, from below,
Scuttling in secret, with a long low laugh,
The advancing fleet – till now, of all their host,
But a chill reek is left, the sunken corsairs’ ghosts.
- Title
- Ice Floes
Part of Ice Floes