 | Poems by Miss H. F. Gould |  |
129
THE SHIP IS READY.
Fare thee well! the ship is ready,
And the breeze is fresh and steady.
Hands are fast the anchor weighing;
High in the air the streamer's playing.
Spread the sails—the waves are swelling
Proudly round thy buoyant dwelling.
Fare thee well! and when at sea,
Think of those, who sigh for thee.
And the breeze is fresh and steady.
Hands are fast the anchor weighing;
High in the air the streamer's playing.
Spread the sails—the waves are swelling
Proudly round thy buoyant dwelling.
Fare thee well! and when at sea,
Think of those, who sigh for thee.
When from land and home receding,
And from hearts, that ache to bleeding,
Think of those behind, who love thee,
While the sun is bright above thee!
Then, as down to ocean glancing,
In the waves his rays are dancing,
Think how long the night will be
To the eyes, that weep for thee.
And from hearts, that ache to bleeding,
Think of those behind, who love thee,
While the sun is bright above thee!
Then, as down to ocean glancing,
In the waves his rays are dancing,
Think how long the night will be
To the eyes, that weep for thee.
When the lonely night-watch keeping,
All below thee still and sleeping—
As the needle points the quarter
O'er the wide and trackless water,
Let thy vigils ever find thee
Mindful of the friends behind thee!
Let thy bosom's magnet be
Turned to those, who wake for thee!
All below thee still and sleeping—
As the needle points the quarter
O'er the wide and trackless water,
Let thy vigils ever find thee
Mindful of the friends behind thee!
Let thy bosom's magnet be
Turned to those, who wake for thee!
130
When, with slow and gentle motion,
Heaves the bosom of the ocean—
While in peace thy bark is riding,
And the silver moon is gliding
O'er the sky with tranquil splendor,
Where the shining hosts attend her;
Let the brightest visions be
Country, home and friends, to thee!
Heaves the bosom of the ocean—
While in peace thy bark is riding,
And the silver moon is gliding
O'er the sky with tranquil splendor,
Where the shining hosts attend her;
Let the brightest visions be
Country, home and friends, to thee!
When the tempest hovers o'er thee,
Danger, wreck and death before thee,
While the sword of fire is gleaming,
Wild the winds, the torrent streaming,
Then, a pious suppliant bending,
Let thy thoughts, to heaven ascending,
Reach the mercy-seat, to be
Met by prayers that rise for thee!
Danger, wreck and death before thee,
While the sword of fire is gleaming,
Wild the winds, the torrent streaming,
Then, a pious suppliant bending,
Let thy thoughts, to heaven ascending,
Reach the mercy-seat, to be
Met by prayers that rise for thee!
| Poems by Miss H. F. Gould | |