[The receiving ship, in] Standard Recitations by best authors A choice collection of Beautiful Compositions |
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 | [The receiving ship, in] Standard Recitations by best authors |  |
39
THE RECEIVING SHIP.
Yonder she floats, an old hulk on the water;
Glows through her port-holes the sunset low sinking;
Sea-grass and barnacles seem to have caught her
Just when her planking is warping and shrinking,
Bow and stern anchored, dismantled, decaying.
Motionless, save where the tide gives her motion,
Wind, stream and weather alike on her preying,
Her, in the past without peer on the ocean,
Her that one time was proud, careless rover,
Ah! how she sailed, how she sailed and seas over!
Friends to greet, foes to meet, loud her guns thundering;
Then like a living thing riding the surges;
White her wings, swift she sped, all the world wondering—
Sped in the South where the hurricane urges;
North, where the spray as it flecks the prow freezes,
West, o'er water-waste, well-named Pacific,
East, where the spice-lands perfume the soft breezes;
There where the Indian wave, lashing terrific,
With the persistent monsoon battle wages;
Where the typhoon in the Yellow Sea rages;
There where the coral reefs, stretching in acres,
Give out no warning by ripple or breakers;
Sailed by a skipper in galantry peerless,
Skillful her way o'er the water-plain shaping;
Manned by a crew, stout, obedient, fearless,
Iceberg and tempest and reef-rock escaping,
Never a better, staunch, grim, self-reliant,
Stars and stripes carried at gaff-peak defiant.
Glows through her port-holes the sunset low sinking;
Sea-grass and barnacles seem to have caught her
Just when her planking is warping and shrinking,
Bow and stern anchored, dismantled, decaying.
Motionless, save where the tide gives her motion,
Wind, stream and weather alike on her preying,
Her, in the past without peer on the ocean,
Her that one time was proud, careless rover,
Ah! how she sailed, how she sailed and seas over!
Friends to greet, foes to meet, loud her guns thundering;
Then like a living thing riding the surges;
White her wings, swift she sped, all the world wondering—
Sped in the South where the hurricane urges;
North, where the spray as it flecks the prow freezes,
West, o'er water-waste, well-named Pacific,
East, where the spice-lands perfume the soft breezes;
There where the Indian wave, lashing terrific,
With the persistent monsoon battle wages;
Where the typhoon in the Yellow Sea rages;
There where the coral reefs, stretching in acres,
Give out no warning by ripple or breakers;
Sailed by a skipper in galantry peerless,
Skillful her way o'er the water-plain shaping;
Manned by a crew, stout, obedient, fearless,
Iceberg and tempest and reef-rock escaping,
Never a better, staunch, grim, self-reliant,
Stars and stripes carried at gaff-peak defiant.
Look at her now; but a few know her story;
Tell it to others they listen in wonder—
Wonder to hear how in days of her glory,
Fell the red cross at the sound of her thunder,
There she rides, keel, timbers, planking half rotten,
Veteran, disabled through battles and cruises,
Services rendered the country forgotten,
Moored in these waters to sink in the oozes.
Name that she bore our proud history hallows;
Battles she won us will live there forever;
Give her a grave in the slime of those shallows?
Let her worn skeleton rot there? Ah! never!
She shall not lie in the mud in the harbor;
Let them once more in her bravery garb her,
Raise from the bed where it slumbers each anchor,
Set every rag of her canvas upon her,
Main-sheet and fore-sheet, gib-sheet and spanker,
Topsails, to'gallantsails, royals, moon-rakers,
Then send her forth in all glory and honor,
Mid-wave to sink in, or crash on the breakers,
So her torn timbers for ages may lie there.
Queen of the sea, let her wander and die there.
Cradled in foam, let her death-bed be ocean;
Lash to the peak the old banner so glorious,
Borne as she bore it o'er foemen victorious;
Let the winds guide, as they choose to, her motion;
Let the storm deal with her rather than give her
Shame in the harbor and grave in the river.
Tell it to others they listen in wonder—
Wonder to hear how in days of her glory,
Fell the red cross at the sound of her thunder,
40
Veteran, disabled through battles and cruises,
Services rendered the country forgotten,
Moored in these waters to sink in the oozes.
Name that she bore our proud history hallows;
Battles she won us will live there forever;
Give her a grave in the slime of those shallows?
Let her worn skeleton rot there? Ah! never!
She shall not lie in the mud in the harbor;
Let them once more in her bravery garb her,
Raise from the bed where it slumbers each anchor,
Set every rag of her canvas upon her,
Main-sheet and fore-sheet, gib-sheet and spanker,
Topsails, to'gallantsails, royals, moon-rakers,
Then send her forth in all glory and honor,
Mid-wave to sink in, or crash on the breakers,
So her torn timbers for ages may lie there.
Queen of the sea, let her wander and die there.
Cradled in foam, let her death-bed be ocean;
Lash to the peak the old banner so glorious,
Borne as she bore it o'er foemen victorious;
Let the winds guide, as they choose to, her motion;
Let the storm deal with her rather than give her
Shame in the harbor and grave in the river.
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