At Sea

by Sara Teasdale
In the pull of the wind I stand, lonely,
 On the deck of a ship, rising, falling,
Wild night around me, wild water under me,
 Whipped by the storm, screaming and calling.
Earth is hostile and the sea hostile,
 Why do I look for a place to rest?
I must fight always and die fighting
 With fear an unhealing wound in my breast.