An Open Boat
O,
what
is
that
whimpering
there
in
the
darkness?
"Let
him
lie
in
my
arms.
He
is
breathing,
I
know.
Look.
I'll
wrap
all
my
hair
round
his
neck"
—
"The
sea's
rising,
The
boat
must
be
lightened.
He's
dead.
He
must
go."
See
—
quick
—
by
that
flash,
where
the
bitter
foam
tosses,
The
cloud
of
white
faces,
in
the
black
open
boat,
And
the
wild
pleading
woman
that
clasps
her
dead
lover
And
wraps
her
loose
hair
round
his
breast
and
his
throat.
"Come,
lady,
he's
dead."
—
"No,
I
feel
his
heart
beating,
He's
living,
I
know.
But
he's
numbed
with
the
cold.
See,
I'm
wrapping
my
hair
all
around
him
to
warm
him."
—
—
"No.
We
can't
keep
the
dead,
dear.
Come,
loosen
your
hold.
"Come.
Loosen
your
fingers."
—
"
O
God,
let
me
keep
him!"
—
O,
hide
it,
black
night!
Let
the
winds
have
their
way!
And
there
are
no
voices
or
ghosts
from
that
darkness,
To
fret
the
bare
seas
at
the
breaking
of
day.