Author Richard Henry Dana And now the mist seems taking shape, Forming a dim gigantic ghost,— Enormous thing! There 's no escape; 'T is close upon the coast.Lee kneels, but cannot pray.—Why mock him so!The ship has cleared the fog, Lee, see her go! Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments