 | Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover |  |
OUR OWN WHITE CLIFF.
The boat that left yon vessel's side—
Swift as the sea-bird's wing,
Doth skim across the sparkling tide
Like an enchanted thing!
Enchantment, there, may bear a part,
Her might is in each oar,
For love inspires each island heart
That nears its native shore;
And as they gaily speed along,
The breeze before them bears their song;
“Oh! merrily row boys—merrily!
Bend the oar to the bounding skiff,
Of every shore
Wide ocean o'er,
There's none like our own White Cliff!”
Swift as the sea-bird's wing,
Doth skim across the sparkling tide
Like an enchanted thing!
Enchantment, there, may bear a part,
Her might is in each oar,
For love inspires each island heart
That nears its native shore;
And as they gaily speed along,
The breeze before them bears their song;
“Oh! merrily row boys—merrily!
Bend the oar to the bounding skiff,
Of every shore
Wide ocean o'er,
There's none like our own White Cliff!”
56
Through sparkling foam they bound—they dart—
The much-loved shore they nigh—
With deeper panting beats each heart,
More brightly beams each eye;
As on the crowded strand they seek
Some well-known form to trace,
In hopes to meet some blushing cheek,
Or wife, or child's embrace;
The oar the spray now faster flings,
More gaily yet each seaman sings;
“Oh! merrily row boys—merrily!
Bend the oar to the bounding skiff,
Of every shore,
Wide ocean o'er,
There's none like our own White Cliff!”
The much-loved shore they nigh—
With deeper panting beats each heart,
More brightly beams each eye;
As on the crowded strand they seek
Some well-known form to trace,
In hopes to meet some blushing cheek,
Or wife, or child's embrace;
The oar the spray now faster flings,
More gaily yet each seaman sings;
“Oh! merrily row boys—merrily!
Bend the oar to the bounding skiff,
Of every shore,
Wide ocean o'er,
There's none like our own White Cliff!”
| Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover | |