Dream of Saba

Calm was Half-Moon Bay; we lay at anchor there 
Just off Tortola; when the hurricane,
Leaving its charted path, leapt full upon us,
And we were bruised and sobbing from the blows of the rain
Before we knew by what we were attacked or could in any way
     prepare.

"How dark it is tonight!" someone had said.
The lantern in the rigging burned serene
Through its glass chimney without crack and polished clean; 
The wick well trimmed; plenty of kerosene.
We went to bed.

Following a fearful night I do not quite remember came a kind
     of dawn, not light,
But something we could see by. And we saw
What we had missed by inches: what we were headed for.

Astern, in an empty sea,
Suddenly, and before a man could cry, "Look there!"
Appeared what for an instant seemed to be 
Black backs of half a hundred porpoises. 
Before the eyes could blink at these,
They were black reefs, which rose into the air
With awful speed till they were mountains; these, one moment 
     there,
Streaming sea-water stood against the sky;
Then all together and with awful speed diminished and like 
     porpoises were gone,
Leaving the sea bare.

We turned from staring aft, and dead ahead, a mile away, 
It seemed, through the thick steam of a white boiling surf and 
     through smashed spray,
Saw the tall naked grooved precipitous sides and concave top 
Of a volcanic island—its volcano now extinct,
It seemed; but it was hard to say.
From its high crater no red flame
Was seen to pulse and pour
But was it indeed or was it alone the steam from the burning
     breakers that kept us from seeing more?

There was no harbour. Those steep sides without a strand 
Went down.
Yet even as from eye to brain this swift perception flashed, 
     there seemed to reach
Even more swiftly toward us from that island now w mirac- 
     ulously in height and size increased
A broadening sandless beach
Humped with round boulders mossed with brightest green, 
And purple with prostrate sea-ferns and stiff upright purple
     fans;
Red with anemones, and brilliant blue, and yellow dotted with 
     black
From many fishes, lashing in the draining pools
Or sliding down the narrow sluices from the encroaching land 
     to the receding sea.

The water thinned; we saw beneath us now
The bottom clearly; and from the vessel's bow
Saw close ahead, in shallow pool or dripping crevice caught, 
The lovely fishes, rosy with azure fins ог cobalt blue or yellow
     striped with black,
Curve their bright bodies double and lash forth and leap and
     then fall back with heavy splash
Or from the crevice leap and on the slippery weeds slide down 
     once more into the narrow crack.

The thump and scrape of our keel upon the shore
Shook us from horror to a friendly sound!
Danger, maybe death, but decent, and the cause known.
Yet neither hook nor oar
Was overside before a Wave like a giant's palm
Was under us and raising us, gently, straight into the sky. 
We rose beside the cliffs; we passed them so close by 
We saw some little plants with reddish-purple flowers 
Growing in a rock; and lying on a narrow ledge
Some birds' eggs; and some birds screamed at us as we passed.

The Wave did not break against the cliff; with utmost calm 
It lifted us. The cliff had niches now where green grass grew. 
And on a foot-high bush in a cleft some raspberries were ripe. 
     And then at last
We saw the crater's edge.
The Wave curved over the rim and set us down in a cradle of
     branches, and withdrew.

It has not returned. Far down, the roaring of the sea abates 
From hour to hour. The sky above our bowl is blue.