The great mad waves were rolling graves,
And each flung up its dead;
The seething flow was white below,
And black the sky o'erhead.
And when the dawn, the dull, gray dawn,--
Broke on the trembling town,
And men looked south to the harbor mouth,
The lighthouse tower was down.
Down in the deep where he doth sleep,
Who made it shine afar,
And then in the night that drowned its light,
Set, with his pilot star.
_Many fair tombs in the glorious glooms
At Westminster they show;
The brave and the great lie there in state:
Winstanley lieth low._
[Illustration]
END OF VOL. I.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems by Jean Ingelow, In Two Volumes,
Volume I., by Jean Ingelow
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