Poems.
61
Till they become a deafening roar,
And send their sounds from shore to shore.
Is there one of earth's own daughters,
Who hath ever been upon the waters,
Either in a storm or in a quiet,
When the winds were asleep, or when they riot,
But what hath felt admiring awe
Expand her bosom at what she saw.
'T is a glorious sight at dawn of day,
When the dimpling waters sportive play,
To view the sun in his splendor rise,
From the ocean's depth to gild the skies.
I love the sea! its misty spell,
Its thousand charms that 'round it dwell.
Oh! who hath sailed upon the ocean,
But what hath felt the heart's devotion,
More deep, more strong, more ardent glow,
When gazing round, above, below.
'T is a holy thought to feel that He,
Who created all the things which be,
Should have a care of every soul,
O'er all the globe, from pole to pole,
That the little barque on the ocean's breast,
Should be, with His watchful guidance blest!
And send their sounds from shore to shore.
Is there one of earth's own daughters,
Who hath ever been upon the waters,
Either in a storm or in a quiet,
When the winds were asleep, or when they riot,
But what hath felt admiring awe
Expand her bosom at what she saw.
'T is a glorious sight at dawn of day,
When the dimpling waters sportive play,
To view the sun in his splendor rise,
From the ocean's depth to gild the skies.
I love the sea! its misty spell,
Its thousand charms that 'round it dwell.
Oh! who hath sailed upon the ocean,
But what hath felt the heart's devotion,
More deep, more strong, more ardent glow,
When gazing round, above, below.
'T is a holy thought to feel that He,
Who created all the things which be,
Should have a care of every soul,
O'er all the globe, from pole to pole,
That the little barque on the ocean's breast,
Should be, with His watchful guidance blest!
