97
THE MEETING SHIPS.
WIFT bounding o'er the shoreless tide,A gallant bark sweeps on,
And seems as if in conscious pride
She walks the waves alone.
She spreads her white wings to the wind,
And dashes through the foam,
As blithe as if she left behind
No friendly heart or home.
And yet, of all the forms she bears
Across the boundless main,
How few shall gaze through joyful tears
On England's cliffs again!
In Eastern climes, far, far away,
On India's burning shore,
Lull many a heart, now glad and gay,
Must sleep to wake no more.
Across the boundless main,
How few shall gaze through joyful tears
On England's cliffs again!
In Eastern climes, far, far away,
On India's burning shore,
Lull many a heart, now glad and gay,
Must sleep to wake no more.
Yet on, ye hopeful hearts, and thou,
Our gallant ship, speed on;
Amid the world of waters now,
Thou art not all alone.—
For lo! a speck upon the wave
Attracts each gazing eye:
It nears, and now a bark as brave
As that she meets draws nigh.
Our gallant ship, speed on;
Amid the world of waters now,
Thou art not all alone.—
For lo! a speck upon the wave
Attracts each gazing eye:
It nears, and now a bark as brave
As that she meets draws nigh.
