Witchcraft was hung, in History, — Summary

In deceptively simple, singsong language, Dickinson tells the story of a tiny boat that ventures out onto a grand and tempting bay, only to be swallowed by a "greedy, greedy wave." The repeated words — "little — little," "gallant — gallant," "greedy, greedy" — create a childlike, playful rhythm that makes the poem feel almost like a nursery rhyme, but underneath there’s a quiet ache. The speaker doesn’t rage or weep; instead, there’s a tender, wistful fondness for this “little craft” with its “stately sails.” The sea is personified as bold and welcoming at first, then devouring, yet the sharpest sting isn’t the loss itself — it’s that the wave never even noticed the treasure it took. The mood is one of gentle melancholy, a soft sadness for something fragile and precious that vanished without fanfare.