IX

The strange misfeaturing mask that I saw so amazed me, that I

Stumbled on deck, half mad. I would fling myself over and die!

But one—he was waving a flag—the one man left on the wreck—

'Woman'—he graspt at my arm—'stay there'—I crouch'd upon deck—

'We are sinking, and yet there's hope look yonder,' he cried, 'a sail'

In a tone so rough that I broke into passionate tears, and the wail

Of a beaten babe, till I saw that a boat was nearing us—then

All on a sudden I thought, I shall look on the child again.