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Poems

by T. Westwood

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(12) NIGHT SONG OF THE SHIP.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


138

(12)
NIGHT SONG OF THE SHIP.

O'er the white waves bounding,
Away! away!
While the winds are sounding
Their roundelay;
With exulting motion,
Onward I sweep,
Favourite of ocean,
Pride of the deep.
Trim ye my sails—guide my helm right—
Safely we'll speed thro' the dark night!

139

Moon and stars deny me
Their cheering ray;
Blasts that hurry by me
Strive to dismay.
But triumphant ever
I mock their wrath,
And with fresh endeavour
Pursue my path.
Trim ye my sails—guide my helm right—
Safely we'll speed thro' the dark night!
Though the storms may waken
Their fierce array,
And by calm forsaken,
Mad billows play;
Though the loud-voiced thunder
With arrowy fire,
Rend the clouds asunder,
Heed not its ire.—
Trim ye my sails—guide my helm right—
Safely we'll speed thro' the dark night!

140

Soon, the shades retreating,
Gladly will rise
With its wonted greeting,
The land ye prize.
Soon will fond eyes brighten,
Sad hearts be gay,
When the sun doth lighten,
The well known bay.—
Trim ye my sails—guide my helm right—
Safely we'll speed thro' the dark night!