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 | Collected poems of Herman Melville |  |
407
TO TOM
Thou that dost thy Christmas keep
Lonesome on the torrid deep,
But in thy “Meteor” proudly sweep
O'er the waves that vainly comb—
Of thee we think,
To thee we drink,
And drain the glass, my gallant Tom!
Lonesome on the torrid deep,
But in thy “Meteor” proudly sweep
O'er the waves that vainly comb—
Of thee we think,
To thee we drink,
And drain the glass, my gallant Tom!
Thou that, duty-led, dost roam
Far from thy shepherd-brother's home—
Shearer of the ocean-foam!
To whom one Christmas may not come,—
Of thee I think
Till on its brink
The glass shows tears, beloved Tom!
Far from thy shepherd-brother's home—
Shearer of the ocean-foam!
To whom one Christmas may not come,—
Of thee I think
Till on its brink
The glass shows tears, beloved Tom!
| Collected poems of Herman Melville | |