Walt Whitman

LEAVES OF GRASS
(1891-92 issue)
complete book, e-book

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35

 Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight?
 Would you learn who won by the light of the moon and stars?
 List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the sailor told it to me.
 
 Our foe was no skulk in his ship I tell you, (said he,)
 His was the surly English pluck, and there is no tougher or truer,
 and never was, and never will be;
 Along the lower'd eve he came horribly raking us.
 
 We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd,
 My captain lash'd fast with his own hands.
 
 We had receiv'd some eighteen pound shots under the water,
 On our lower-gun-deck two large pieces had burst at the first fire,
 killing all around and blowing up overhead.
 
 Fighting at sun-down, fighting at dark,
 Ten o'clock at night, the full moon well up, our leaks on the gain,
 and five feet of water reported,
 The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in the after-hold
 to give them a chance for themselves.
 
 The transit to and from the magazine is now stopt by the sentinels,
 They see so many strange faces (...)
(......)