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 | Collected poems of Herman Melville |  |
391
GIVE ME THE NERVE
Give me the nerve
That never will swerve
Running out on life's ledges of danger;
Mine, mine be the nerve
That in peril will serve,
Since life is to safety a stranger.
That never will swerve
Running out on life's ledges of danger;
Mine, mine be the nerve
That in peril will serve,
Since life is to safety a stranger.
When roaring below
The cataracts go,
And tempests are over me scudding;
Give, give me the calm
That is better than balm,
And the courage that keepeth new-budding.
The cataracts go,
And tempests are over me scudding;
Give, give me the calm
That is better than balm,
And the courage that keepeth new-budding.
| Collected poems of Herman Melville | |