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How's my boy--my boy?"
Sydney Dobell [1824-1874]
THE LONG WRITE SEAM
As I came round the harbor buoy, The lights began to gleam, No wave the land-locked water stirred, The crags were white as cream; And I marked my love by candlelight Sewing her long white seam.
It's aye sewing ash.o.r.e, my dear, Watch and steer at sea, It's reef and furl, and haul the line, Set sail and think of thee.
I climbed to reach her cottage door; O sweetly my love sings!
Like a shaft of light her voice breaks forth, My soul to meet it springs As the s.h.i.+ning water leaped of old, When stirred by angel wings.
Aye longing to list anew, Awake and in my dream, But never a song she sang like this, Sewing her long white seam.
Fair fall the lights, the harbor lights, That brought me in to thee, And peace drop down on that low roof For the sight that I did see, And the voice, my dear, that rang so clear All for the love of me.
For O, for O, with brows bent low By the candle's flickering gleam, Her wedding-gown it was she wrought.
Sewing the long white seam.
Jean Ingelow [1820-1897]
STORM SONG
The clouds are scudding across the moon; A misty light is on the sea; The wind in the shrouds has a wintry tune, And the foam is flying free.
Brothers, a night of terror and gloom Speaks in the cloud and gathering roar; Thank G.o.d, He has given us broad sea-room, A thousand miles from sh.o.r.e.
Down with the hatches on those who sleep!
The wild and whistling deck have we; Good watch, my brothers, to-night we'll keep, While the tempest is on the sea!
Though the rigging shriek in his terrible grip, And the naked spars be snapped away, Lashed to the helm, we'll drive our s.h.i.+p In the teeth of the whelming spray!
Hark! how the surges o'erleap the deck!
Hark! how the pitiless tempest raves!
Ah, daylight will look upon many a wreck Drifting over the desert waves.
Yet, courage, brothers! we trust the wave, With G.o.d above us, our guiding chart.
So, whether to harbor or ocean-grave, Be it still with a cheery heart!
Bayard Taylor [1825-1878]
THE MARINER'S DREAM
In slumbers of midnight the sailor-boy lay; His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind; But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away, And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind.
He dreamed of his home, of his dear native bowers, And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn; While Memory stood sideways, half covered with flowers, And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn.
Then Fancy her magical pinions spread wide, And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy rise; Now far, far behind him the green waters glide, And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes.
The jessamine clambers in flowers o'er the thatch, And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in the wall; All trembling with transport he raises the latch, And the voices of loved ones reply to his call.
A father bends o'er him with looks of delight; His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear; And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.
The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast; Joy quickens his pulses, his hards.h.i.+ps seem o'er; And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest,-- "O G.o.d! thou hast blessed me,--I ask for no more."
Ah! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye?
Ah! what is that sound which now larums his ear?
'Tis the lightning's red glare, painting h.e.l.l on the sky!
'Tis the crash of the thunder, the groan of the sphere!
He springs from his hammock, he flies to the deck; Amazement confronts him with images dire; Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck; The masts fly in splinters; the shrouds are on fire.
Like mountains the billows tremendously swell; In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save; Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell, And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave!
O sailor-boy, woe to thy dream of delight!
In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss.
Where now is the picture that Fancy touched bright,-- Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss?
O sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again Shall home, love, or kindred thy wishes repay; Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main, Full many a fathom, thy frame shall decay.
No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee, Or redeem form or fame from the merciless surge; But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be, And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge!
On a bed of green sea-flowers thy limbs shall be laid,-- Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, And every part suit to thy mansion below.
Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away, And still the vast waters above thee shall roll; Earth loses thy pattern forever and aye,-- O sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul!
William Dimond [1780?-1837?]
THE INCHCAPE ROCK
No stir in the air, no stir in the sea, The s.h.i.+p was still as she could be; Her sails from Heaven received no motion, Her keel was steady in the ocean.
Without either sign or sound of their shock, The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock; So little they rose, so little they fell, They did not move the Inchcape Bell.
The holy Abbot of Aberbrothok Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock; On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, And over the waves its warning rung.
When the rock was hid by the surges' swell, The mariners heard the warning bell; And then they knew the perilous Rock, And blessed the Abbot of Aberbrothok.
The Sun in heaven was s.h.i.+ning gay, All things were joyful on that day; The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled around, And there was joyance in their sound.
