Poemsby Emily Dickinson


 It tossed and tossed, - A little brig I knew, - O'ertook by blast, It spun and spun, And groped delirious, for morn. 
 It slipped and slipped, As one that drunken stepped; Its white foot tripped, Then dropped from sight. 
 Ah, brig, good-night To crew and you; The ocean's heart too smooth, too blue, To break for you.