Poor Jack 1597 IN OUR BOAT STARS trembling o'er us and sunset before us, Mountains in shadow and forests asleep; Down the dim river we float on forever, Speak not, ah, breathe not-there's peace on the deep. Come not, pale sorrow, flee till to-morrow; Speak not, ah, breathe not-there's peace on the deep. As the waves cover the depths we glide over, While down the river we float on forever, Speak not, ah, breathe not-there's peace on the deep. Heaven shine above us, bless all that love us; While down the river we float on forever, Speak not, ah, breathe not-there's peace on the deep. POOR JACK Go, patter to lubbers and swabs, do ye see, 'Bout danger, and fear, and the like; A water-tight boat and good sea-room for me, And it ain't to a little I'll strike. Though the tempest topgallant-masts smack smooth should smite, And shiver each splinter of wood, Clear the deck, stow the yards, and house everything tight, And under reefed foresail we'll scud: Avast! nor don't think me a milksop so soft To be taken for trifles aback; For they say there's a Providence sits up aloft, I heard our good chaplain palaver one day And a many fine things that proved clearly to me "For," says he, "do you mind me, let storms e'er so oft Take the topsails of sailors aback, There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft, To keep watch for the life of poor Jack!" I said to our Poll,-for, d'ye see, she would cry, When last we weighed anchor for sea,- "What argufies sniveling and piping your eye? Why, what a blamed fool you must be! Can't you see, the world's wide, and there's room for us all, Both for seamen and lubbers ashore? And if to old Davy I should go, friend Poll, You never will hear of me more. What then? All's a hazard: come, don't be so soft: Perhaps I may laughing come back; For, d'ye see, there's a cherub sits smiling aloft, D'ye mind me, a sailor should be every inch And with her brave the world, without offering to flinch As for me, in all weathers, all times, sides, and ends, For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino's my friend's, Even when my time comes, ne'er believe me so soft As for grief to be taken aback; For the same little cherub that sits up aloft Charles Dibdin [1745-1814] Outward 1599 "ROCKED IN THE CRADLE OF THE DEEP" ROCKED in the cradle of the deep I lay me down in peace to sleep; For Thou, O Lord! hast power to save. When in the dead of night I lie And such the trust that still were mine, And calm and peaceful shall I sleep, Rocked in the cradle of the deep. Emma Hart Willard [1787-1870] OUTWARD WHITHER away, O Sailor! say? Never port shall lift for me Into the sky, out of the sea! Into the blue or into the black, Sailor under sun and moon, 'Tis the ocean's fatal rune. Under yon far rim of sky Onward, outward I must go On this purple-tented sea. Star and Wind and Sun my brothers, Ocean one of many mothers. Onward under sun and star Where the weird adventures are! Never port shall lift for me I am Wind and Sky and Sea! John G. Neihardt [1881 A PASSER-BY WHITHER, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding, In a summer haven asleep, thy white sails furling. I there before thee, in the country that well thou knowest, I watch thee enter unerringly where thou goest, Off Rivière du Loup Thy sails for awnings spread, thy masts bare: 1601 Nor is aught from the foaming reef to the snow-capped grandest Peak, that is over the feathery palms, more fair Than thou, so upright, so stately and still thou standest. And yet, O splendid ship, unhailed and nameless, I know not if, aiming a fancy, I rightly divine From the proud nostril curve of a prow's line In the offing scatterest foam, thy white sails crowding. OFF RIVIÈRE DU LOUP O SHIP incoming from the sea The sunset pageant in the west You know the joy of coming home, Between these somber purple hills You will toss onward toward the lights |