Old Year Leaves Being Old Verses Revised: By H. T. Mackenzie Bell ... New Edition |
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A SEA SONG. |
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Old Year Leaves | ||
172
A SEA SONG.
I could not as a landsman live,
Pursuing his poor pleasure,
Each dull delight his course may give
Has nought in it to measure
With the true transport of the soul,
O'er every sense prevailing,
When 'neath our feet the wild waves roll,
We o'er the ocean sailing.
Chorus. A sailor's life! a sailor's life!
Upon the swelling sea,
Whose surges roar in ceaseless strife—
A sailor's life for me.
Pursuing his poor pleasure,
Each dull delight his course may give
Has nought in it to measure
With the true transport of the soul,
O'er every sense prevailing,
When 'neath our feet the wild waves roll,
We o'er the ocean sailing.
Chorus. A sailor's life! a sailor's life!
Upon the swelling sea,
Whose surges roar in ceaseless strife—
A sailor's life for me.
I love it when in summer-time
It lies, all ill concealing,
And o'er its ripples comes the chime
Of church-bells softly stealing.
I love it when in grandest storm,
Like some great monster playing;
It spurns on high the vessel's form,
To mock it ere its slaying.
Chorus. A sailor's life! etc.
It lies, all ill concealing,
And o'er its ripples comes the chime
Of church-bells softly stealing.
173
Like some great monster playing;
It spurns on high the vessel's form,
To mock it ere its slaying.
Chorus. A sailor's life! etc.
Then, as our voyage is nearly gone,
And soon to port returning,
I love the waves which waft me on
To soothe my constant yearning.
And when the dear land is espied—
Dispelling all our sadness—
I bless the swiftly flowing tide
Which bears me on to gladness.
Chorus. A sailor's life! etc.
And soon to port returning,
I love the waves which waft me on
To soothe my constant yearning.
And when the dear land is espied—
Dispelling all our sadness—
I bless the swiftly flowing tide
Which bears me on to gladness.
Chorus. A sailor's life! etc.
Old Year Leaves | ||