
Growling spray tosses the graveyard
Caught in a wild tempest,
The waves clawing the bark .
Caught in a wild tempest,
The waves clawing the bark .
Bolts crack open the welkin black,
Lights a shadow sweeping—
The crew reduced to ghosts .

Morning conjures the battered ship ;
A coffin run aground—
The unkempt wolf transformed .
