The Shipman's Tale by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Listen, my masters! I speak naught but truth.

From dawn to dawn they drifted on and on,

Not knowing whither nor to what dark end.

Now the North froze them, now the hot South scorched.

Some called to God, and found great comfort so;

Some gnashed their teeth with curses, and some laughed

An empty laughter, seeing they yet lived,

So sweet was breath between their foolish lips.

Day after day the same relentless sun,

Night after night the same unpitying stars.

At intervals fierce lightnings tore the clouds,

Showing vast hollow spaces, and the sleet

Hissed, and the torrents of the sky were loosed.

From time to time a hand relaxed its grip,

And some pale wretch slid down into the dark

With stifled moan, and transient horror seized

The rest who waited, knowing what must be.

At every turn strange shapes reached up and clutched

The whirling wreck, held on awhile, and then

Slipt back into that blackness whence they came.