[Cape Cottage, in] The poets of Maine a collection of specimen poems from over four hundred verse-makers of the Pine-Tree State |
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 | [Cape Cottage, in] The poets of Maine |  |
41
CAPE COTTAGE.
Hurrah for Cape Cottage, hurrah!
Hurrah for a sight of the Sea!
Hurrah for the girls that are found there!
Hurrah for the rocks that abound there!
With perch weighing more than a pound there!
Hurrah for the wind blowing free!
Hurrah for a sight of the Sea!
Hurrah for the girls that are found there!
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With perch weighing more than a pound there!
Hurrah for the wind blowing free!
Bend, brothers, bend, with all your might!
Stretch forward! keep her to it!
Lo, the dark surges flashing bright!
Lo, the blue waters tumbling white!
Hurrah, boys! drive her through it!
Stretch forward! keep her to it!
Lo, the dark surges flashing bright!
Lo, the blue waters tumbling white!
Hurrah, boys! drive her through it!
Hurrah for Cape Cottage, hurrah!
Hurrah for the hedges of roses—
Hurrah for the trees and the flowers,
The berries, the blossoming showers,
Sea serpents and pearls,
The boys and the girls,
And the beach where old ocean reposes.
Hurrah for the hedges of roses—
Hurrah for the trees and the flowers,
The berries, the blossoming showers,
Sea serpents and pearls,
The boys and the girls,
And the beach where old ocean reposes.
There's the Cape of Good Hope, and the hope of good cape,
To comfort the man of the Sea;
There's the frightful “Cape Horn,”—for the married “Cape Fear,”
And that nice little cape that belongs to my dear—
Of a tissue so thin that they call it “Cape Clear,”
The last to be doubled by me.
To comfort the man of the Sea;
There's the frightful “Cape Horn,”—for the married “Cape Fear,”
And that nice little cape that belongs to my dear—
Of a tissue so thin that they call it “Cape Clear,”
The last to be doubled by me.
There's Cape Cod and Cape Ann—
Bless your soul, what a span—
Cape Lookout and Hatteras too—
And the capes of Virginia the strangest of all—
For O, how strangely they rise and fall,
In the sweet sea-breeze and the midnight ball,
That's held on the Ocean blue—
Oh, say what you will of the Capes of the Sea,
The capes of the land are the capes for me.
Bless your soul, what a span—
Cape Lookout and Hatteras too—
And the capes of Virginia the strangest of all—
For O, how strangely they rise and fall,
In the sweet sea-breeze and the midnight ball,
That's held on the Ocean blue—
Oh, say what you will of the Capes of the Sea,
The capes of the land are the capes for me.
Bend, brothers, bend! there lies the shore—
Spring to it—all together!
Now, where the tumbling surges roar,
Along the deep “untrampled floor,”
We go like a dancing feather!
Spring to it—all together!
Now, where the tumbling surges roar,
Along the deep “untrampled floor,”
We go like a dancing feather!
Then hurrah for Cape Cottage, hurrah!
Hurrah for the blossoming trees!
Hurrah for the beautiful women!
Hurrah for the shells and the moss—
Hurrah for the chasms to cross!
With places to swim in,
All tranquil and brimmin'—
Hurrah for the sounding sea-breeze!
Hurrah for the blossoming trees!
Hurrah for the beautiful women!
Hurrah for the shells and the moss—
Hurrah for the chasms to cross!
With places to swim in,
All tranquil and brimmin'—
Hurrah for the sounding sea-breeze!
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