SONG OF THE SEA-WEED.
Oh worse is the groan that breaketh there
Than the burst of a drowning cry;
They have bread in store, and flesh to spare,
But the water-casks are dry.
Than the burst of a drowning cry;
They have bread in store, and flesh to spare,
But the water-casks are dry.
Many a lip is gaping for drink,
And madly calling for rain;
And some hot brains are beginning to think
Of a messmate's open'd vein.
And madly calling for rain;
And some hot brains are beginning to think
Of a messmate's open'd vein.
Nautilus, nautilus, let us be gone;
For I like not this to look upon.
For I like not this to look upon.
Now about the island bay,
I am quietly at play;
Now the fisher's skiff I'm round;
Now I lave the rocky mound;
Now I swiftly float aground,
Where the surge and pebbles rustle;
Where young, naked feet tread o'er
My dripping branches, to explore
For spotted egg and purple muscle.
I am quietly at play;
Now the fisher's skiff I'm round;
Now I lave the rocky mound;
Now I swiftly float aground,
Where the surge and pebbles rustle;
Where young, naked feet tread o'er
My dripping branches, to explore
For spotted egg and purple muscle.
The tide recedes—the wave comes not
To bear me from this barren spot.
Here I lie for many a day,
Crisp'd and shrivell'd in the ray;
Till I wither, shrink, and crack,
And my green stem turneth black.
To bear me from this barren spot.
Here I lie for many a day,
Crisp'd and shrivell'd in the ray;
Till I wither, shrink, and crack,
And my green stem turneth black.
See! there cometh sturdy men,
But they wear no sailor blue;
No kerchief decks their tawny necks;
They form no smart and gallant crew.
Hark! there cometh merry strains,
'Tis not music that I know;
But they wear no sailor blue;
No kerchief decks their tawny necks;
They form no smart and gallant crew.
Hark! there cometh merry strains,
'Tis not music that I know;
309
