The poems of John G. C. Brainard A new and authentic collection, with an original memoir of his life |
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THE DOG-WATCH. |
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 | The poems of John G. C. Brainard |  |
THE DOG-WATCH.
[_]
On the homeward passage, in the merchant service, the mate keeps the watch from six to eight. This is called the Dog-Watch.
Sweep on, the wave is curled with foam,
Sweep on, the tide is bearing home,
Sweep on, the breeze is fair;
The sun himself hastes to the West,
Where lies the home that I love best,—
Wave, tide, and breeze may rage or rest
When I get there.
Sweep on, the tide is bearing home,
Sweep on, the breeze is fair;
The sun himself hastes to the West,
Where lies the home that I love best,—
Wave, tide, and breeze may rage or rest
When I get there.
The twilight smiles upon the sea,
The stars shine out to pilot me;
And one, amidst the glare
Of all their host,—the evening star
Stoops sweetly o'er my home afar,
And says no storm my course shall mar,
Till I get there.
The stars shine out to pilot me;
And one, amidst the glare
Of all their host,—the evening star
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And says no storm my course shall mar,
Till I get there.
The list'ning of an anxious ear,
The gaze that brightens through a tear,
Out-feel the watcher's round.
I only hear the breakers roar,
I only see my own dear shore,
'T is I that soon shall tread once more
My native ground.
The gaze that brightens through a tear,
Out-feel the watcher's round.
I only hear the breakers roar,
I only see my own dear shore,
'T is I that soon shall tread once more
My native ground.
| The poems of John G. C. Brainard | |