After the Storm

As children vex a lion in his cage Themselves secure, the doorway barred and locked, So, Ocean! have I railed at thee, have mocked With gibe and jeer thine ineffectual rage. Ah, I was wrong! All those in every age Who, weeping, at their prison-bars have knocked I heard again when this huge bastion rocked Before thee; and I learned their parentage. And now thou’rt spent. No more a giant’s hand Buffets the sounding rocks, but piteously Thou rangest the low shore with feeble fret. O God, it wellnigh breaks my heart to see Those foamy fingers plucking at the strand Like a sick woman’s at her coverlet!