University of Virginia Library


40

THE BOAT.

Oh, see my little boat,
How prettily it glides;
Like a bird it seems to float,
Press'd forward by the tides—
By the tides.
The sky is shining brightly,
The fishes dart below,
While my little boat so lightly
Leaps onward as I row—
As I row.
I would like to be a boat,
And live upon the sea;
So merrily I'd float,
With nought to trouble me—
Trouble me.
But should a storm come near,
And fill me with alarms,
I would row to mother dear—
My boat should be her arms—
Mother's arms.