Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.147.67.34
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Author’s Introduction - A word about Minot’s Ledge Lighthouse: 

The Minot’s Ledge lighthouse, built 1850, lying off the southeastern chop of 
Boston Bay, was the first lighthouse built in the U. S. that was not protected by 
exposure to the fury of ocean storms. It was, then unfinished, in the shape of an 
egg-shell painted red and supported by iron pillars. The first keeper, Isaac 
Dunham, quit after 10 months citing how unsafe the structure was (swaying 2 
feet in each direction in a storm). His fears were well founded, for in April 1851, a 
colossal storm struck the New England coast. The lighthouse was toppled and 
swept away, and the two attendants, Joseph Antoine and Joseph Wilson, were 
killed. 

The following day only a few bent pilings were found on the rock. This tragedy set 
the standard for the construction of more solid structures using granite blocks for 
greater support and a new light was built by June, 1860. 

To this day, legend has it, that in dark and stormy weather, sailors hear a voice 
coming from Minot’s Light crying in Portuguese (the nationality of one of the 
deceased keepers – Joseph Antoine) – “Stay away!” 


The Ill-Fated Lighthouse 

The towering light that threw 
Its friendly beams afar 
Over the foaming waves, 
The sailor’s guiding star, 
Is quench’d – and darkness glooms 
Where late it bless’d his sight, 
As homeward bound he came 
In the dark hour of night. 

The thundering surges swept 
Over the rocky bed, 
From which the lighthouse rear’d 
Aloft its flaming head. 
And lo! They bore away 
In that mad fearful hour, 
The work that man had made – 
The tempest’s rightful dower 

And yet a richer freight 
The heaving billows bore, 
Than wreck of perished Light! 
For tossing to the shore 
The drench’d and lifeless forms 
Of youthful dead there were, 
Two brave and manly hearts 
That sadly perish’d there! 

Farewell ye faithful ones! 
Your memory shall live, 
While feeling hearts remain, 
Pity’s sweet drops to give, 
Or any to recount 
The terrors of that night, 
When the drear sea engulf’d 
The hapless beacon light. 

And you, ye rushing waves! 
Sweep – foaming, sweep along, 
And ever as ye go, 
Lift high your noisy song; 
For thou, remorseless sea! 
Maketh all things thine own! 
Then send aloft your tune, 
And madly thunder on.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required