Loud raged the tumult: Ocean far and near
Seethed with wild anger, up the sloping sand
Driving the shreds of foam; while, half in fear,
We battled with the tempest, on the strand
Scarcely upheld; or, clinging arm to arm,
In wedge compact:–now would we venture brave
Into the trench of the retreating wave;
Now shoreward flee, with not all–feigned alarm.
A challenge did my gentle sister speak:
“Yon pebble fetch, ‘mongst those that furthest roll,
Pierced on one face with an unsightly hole!”
Beneath a crested wave, that curled to break,
I grasped the prize, not scathless; and since then
That stone hath held the stuff that feeds my truant pen.
(Henry Alford)
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Based on Topics: Fear Poems, Anger Poems, Speaking Poems, Driving PoemsBased on Keywords: seethed, scathless