With robes of white, that far behind But modelled from the Master's daughter! By a path none other knows aright! Each tall and tapering mast Is swung into its place; Shrouds and stays Holding it firm and fast! Whose roar Would remind them for evermore Of their native forests they should not see again. And everywhere The slender, graceful spars Poise aloft in the air, And at the mast head, White, blue, and red, A flag unrolls the stripes and stars. Ah! when the wanderer, lonely, friendless, In foreign harbours shall behold That flag unrolled, "Twill be as a friendly hand Stretched out from his native land, Filling his heart with memories sweet and endless. Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled, Up and down the sands of gold. With ceaseless flow, His beard of snow Heaves with the heaving of his breast. He waits impatient for his bride. There she stands, With her foot upon the sands, Decked with flags and streamers gay, In honour of her marriage day, Her snow-white signals fluttering, blending, Round her like a veil descending, Ready to be The bride of the grey, old sea. Spake, with accents mild and clear, Of the sailor's heart, All its pleasures and its griefs, And lift and drift, with terrible force, "Like unto ships far off at sea, Outward or homeward bound, are we. Floats and swings the horizon's bound, And climb the crystal wall of the skies, As if we could slide from its outer brink. It is not the sea that sinks and shelves, That rock and rise With endless and uneasy motion, Now touching the very skies, Now sinking into the depths of ocean. To the toil and the task we have to do, We shall sail securely, and safely reach The Fortunate Isles, on whose shining beach The sights we see, and the sounds we hear, Will be those of joy and not of fear!" Then the Master, With a gesture of command, Waved his hand; And at the word, Loud and sudden there was heard, The sound of hammers, blow on blow, She starts, she moves,-she seems to feel The thrill of life along her keel, And, spurning with her foot the ground, With one exulting, joyous bound, She leaps into the ocean's arms! And lo! from the assembled crowd How beautiful she is! How fair Through wind and wave, right onward steer! Sail forth into the sea of life, Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Are all with thee,-are all with thee! TWILIGHT. THE twilight is sad and cloudy, But in the fisherman's cottage There shines a ruddier light, And a little face at the window Peers out into the night. Close, close it is pressed to the window, And a woman's waving shadow Now bowing and bending low. And the night-wind, bleak and wild, As they beat at the crazy casement, Tell to that little child? And why do the roaring ocean, And the night-wind, wild and bleak, As they beat at the heart of the mother, Drive the colour from her cheek? THE FIRE OF DRIFT-WOOD. WE sat within the farm-house old, Whose windows, looking o'er the bay, Gave to the sea-breeze, damp and cold, An easy entrance, night and day. Not far away we saw the port, The strange, old-fashioned, silent town, The light-house, the dismantled fort,— The wooden houses, quaint and brown. We sat and talked until the night, Descending, filled the little room; Our faces faded from the sight, Our voices only broke the gloom. We spake of many a vanished scene, Of what we once had thought and said, Of what had been, and might have been, And who was changed, and who was dead; And all that fills the hearts of friends, When first they feel, with secret pain, Their lives thenceforth have separate ends, And never can be one again; The first light swerving of the heart, Of ships dismasted, that were hailed The windows, rattling in their frames,- Of fancies floating through the brain,The long-lost ventures of the heart, That send no answers back again. O flames that glowed! O hearts that yearned ! They were indeed too much akin, The drift wood fire without that burned, The thoughts that burned and glowed within. |