Page:Poems (Fields)-1.djvu/46

While fore and aft, all staunch and tight,
 She spreads her canvas wide,
The captain walks his realm, the deck,
 With more than monarch's pride;—
For well he knows the sea-bird's wings,
 So swift and sure to-day,
Will waft him many a league to-night
 In triumph on his way.

Then welcome to the rushing blast
 That stirs the waters now,—
Ye white-plumed heralds of the deep,
 Make music round her prow!
Good sea-room in the roaring gale,
 Let stormy trumpets blow;
But chain ten thousand fathoms down
 The sluggish calm below!