 | Poems |  |
THE HOMEWARD WATCH.
The sailor the deck is pacing,
And he hums a rough old song,
Bearing north from its southern whaling,
As the good ship drives along;
And his thoughts with hope are swelling,
For his watch it well may cheer,
To know that at last he speeds to her
He has left for many a year.
And he hums a rough old song,
Bearing north from its southern whaling,
As the good ship drives along;
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For his watch it well may cheer,
To know that at last he speeds to her
He has left for many a year.
And she, in the darken'd chamber
Where day is turn'd to night,
By the candle dimly lighted,
She lies in her shroud of white;
Closed eye, and cold, cold cheek;
The slumber of death sleeps she,
Of meeting with whom he's dreaming
In his homeward watch at sea.
Where day is turn'd to night,
By the candle dimly lighted,
She lies in her shroud of white;
Closed eye, and cold, cold cheek;
The slumber of death sleeps she,
Of meeting with whom he's dreaming
In his homeward watch at sea.
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