dry...

THE LIGHTHOUSE

Just as my watch was done, the fog had lifted;

And we could see the flashing of our light;

And see, once more, the reef beyond the Head,

O'er which, six days and nights, the mist had drifted--

Six days and nights in thick white mist had drifted,

Until it seemed all time to mist had drifted,

And day and night were but one blind white night.

But on the seventh midnight the wind shifted:

And I was glad to tumble into bed,

Thankful to hear no more the blaring horn,

That ceaselessly had sounded, night and morn,

With moaning echoes through the mist, to warn

The blind, bewildered ships at sea:

Yet, though as tired as any dog,

I lay awhile, and seemed to feel

Fog lying on my eyes still heavily;

And still, the horn unceasingly

Sang through my head, till gradually

Through night's strange stillness, over me

Sweet sleep began to steal,

Sleep, blind and thick and fleecy as the fog.

For all I knew, I might have slept

A moment, or eternity;

When, startled by a crash,

I waked to find I'd leapt

Upright on the floor:

And stood there, listening to the smash

Of falling glass ... and then a thud

Of something heavy tumbling

Into the next room...

A pad of naked feet...

A moan ... a sound of stumbling ...

A heavier thud ... and then no more.

And I stood shivering in the gloom,

With creeping flesh, and tingling blood,

Until I gave myself a shake

To bring my wits more wide awake;

And lit a lantern, and flung wide the door.

Half-dazed, and dazzled by the light,

At first it seemed I'd only find

A broken pane, a flapping blind:

But when I raised the lantern o'er my head,

I saw a naked boy upon the bed,

Who crouched and shuddered on the folded sheet;

And, on his face, before my feet,

A naked man, who lay as if quite dead,

Though on his broken knuckles blood was red:

And all my wits awakened at the sight.

I set the lantern down; and took the child,

Who looked at me, with piteous eyes and wild;

And chafed his chill, wet body, till it glowed;

And forcing spirit 'twixt