Shipwreck. By 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.