Treasure Island

Hilaire Belloc

(27 July 1870 – 16 July 1953 / La Celle-Saint-Cloud)

[Month of] March


The north-cast wind has come from Norroway,
Roaring he came above the white waves' tips!
The foam of the loud sea was on his lips,
And all his hair was salt with falling spray.
Over the keen light of northern day
He cast his snow cloud's terrible eclipse;
Beyond our banks he suddenly struck the ships,
And left them labouring on his landward way.

The certain course that to my strength belongs
Drives him with gathering purpose and control
Until across Vendean flats he sees
Ocean, the eldest of his enemies.
Then wheels he for him, glorying in goal
And gives him challenge, bellowing battle songs.

Submitted: Saturday, April 03, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem ([Month of] March by Hilaire Belloc )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Diwa ng isang OFW, Jesus James Llorico
  2. Clean heart, gajanan mishra
  3. In This World, Richard Provencher
  4. Murderer, Nassy Fesharaki
  5. The Eclipse (1975), Daniel Brick
  6. winter kiss, Dipankar Chakraborty
  7. A Lover's Rose, JJ Evendon
  8. Death was upon her, Naomi Chao
  9. Perhaps, Dipankar Chakraborty
  10. The matchless unparalelled Artist of the.., S.zaynub Kamoonpuri

Poem of the Day

poet Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]