And pipe to driving skies,
And the moon peers, half afraid,
Through the storm-cloud's ragged shade,
He hears her voice in the blast
That sighs about the mast,
He sees her face in the clouds
As he climbs the whistling shrouds;
And a power nerves his hand,
Shall bring the bark to land.



SAILOR'S SONG.

The sea goes up; the sky comes down.
Oh, can you spy the ancient town,--
The granite hills so hard and gray,
That rib the land behind the bay?
O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings!
Fair winds, boys: send her home!
O ye ho!

Three years? Is it so long that we
Have lived upon the lonely sea?
Oh, often I thought we'd see the town,
When the sea went up, and the sky came down.
O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings!
Fair winds, boys: send her home!
O ye ho!