 | Poetry for seamen |  |
41
“I WENT TO SEA.”
I am a sailor, rough and bold,
And yet my boyhood fair,
Was nurtured in a pleasant home,
By parents' tender care;
But at their hearth or by their side
I had no mind to be,
E'er since I heard a story told
Of one who went to sea.
And yet my boyhood fair,
Was nurtured in a pleasant home,
By parents' tender care;
But at their hearth or by their side
I had no mind to be,
E'er since I heard a story told
Of one who went to sea.
I sat in school, but book and rule
Still no instruction brought,
The snowy sail and foaming flood
So filled my roving thought;
And when on quiet pillow laid,
There was no rest for me,
For every fleeting vision sung
The music of the sea.
Still no instruction brought,
The snowy sail and foaming flood
So filled my roving thought;
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There was no rest for me,
For every fleeting vision sung
The music of the sea.
My father bade me learn a trade,
Or till the fallow land,
And told how healthful toil would heap
The silver in my hand;
But when he died, I felt, alas!
From all allegiance free,
And though my widowed mother wept,
I left her for the sea.
Or till the fallow land,
And told how healthful toil would heap
The silver in my hand;
But when he died, I felt, alas!
From all allegiance free,
And though my widowed mother wept,
I left her for the sea.
I 've sailed where arctic oceans spread,
And icy mountains frown,
And the fierce fire of tropic suns
Hath burnt my forehead brown;
I 've sailed among the Indian isles,
Where grows the spicy tree,
And where the broad La Plata rolls,
Rich tribute to the sea.
And icy mountains frown,
And the fierce fire of tropic suns
Hath burnt my forehead brown;
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Where grows the spicy tree,
And where the broad La Plata rolls,
Rich tribute to the sea.
I 've climbed the shroud when storms blew loud,
And every star was dead,
And winter in the midnight cloud
Had muffled up her head;
I 've seen our good ship go to wreck,
For such was heaven's decree,
And in the boat, mid breakers white,
Have dared the raging sea.
And every star was dead,
And winter in the midnight cloud
Had muffled up her head;
I 've seen our good ship go to wreck,
For such was heaven's decree,
And in the boat, mid breakers white,
Have dared the raging sea.
Yet still that Pilot, who the helm
Of this round world doth guide,
Preserved me when the jaws of death
Were yawning dark and wide;
Though when the blast was safely past
Too oft in sailor glee,
This too ungrateful heart forget
The Ruler of the sea.
Of this round world doth guide,
Preserved me when the jaws of death
Were yawning dark and wide;
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Too oft in sailor glee,
This too ungrateful heart forget
The Ruler of the sea.
But, blessed day! a holy man
To me a Bible gave,
That life-boat to the struggling wretch,
Who darkly beats the wave;
And now its blest and warning voice,
Doth speak good words to me,
Whene'er my midnight watch I keep
Upon the lonely sea.
To me a Bible gave,
That life-boat to the struggling wretch,
Who darkly beats the wave;
And now its blest and warning voice,
Doth speak good words to me,
Whene'er my midnight watch I keep
Upon the lonely sea.
And then, my mother's image comes
So pitiful and meek,
As when with streaming eyes she stood
Her last farewell to speak;
When from her pleasant cottage door
I made such haste to flee,
And in my wilful mood forsook
Her kindness for the sea.
So pitiful and meek,
As when with streaming eyes she stood
Her last farewell to speak;
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I made such haste to flee,
And in my wilful mood forsook
Her kindness for the sea.
That Book divine, which bids us shun
The dread undying flame,
Doth strictly for our parent-guides,
A filial reverence claim;
But mother, mother, kind and dear,
How have I honored thee?
With many a pang I paid thy love,
Before I went to sea.
The dread undying flame,
Doth strictly for our parent-guides,
A filial reverence claim;
But mother, mother, kind and dear,
How have I honored thee?
With many a pang I paid thy love,
Before I went to sea.
God give me grace to see her face,
And sooth her sorrowing care,
And freely with her feeble age
My honest pittance share;
And once more bending by her side,
On the repentant knee,
Hear her fond lips rejoicing bless
The wanderer from the sea.
And sooth her sorrowing care,
And freely with her feeble age
My honest pittance share;
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On the repentant knee,
Hear her fond lips rejoicing bless
The wanderer from the sea.
| Poetry for seamen | |