THE SEA BOY.
"Up the main top-mast, ho!"
The storm was loud,
And the deep midnight muffled up her head,
Leaving no ray. By the red binnacle
I saw the sea-boy. His young cheek was pale,
And his lip trembled. But he dared not hear
That hoarse command repeated. So he sprang,
With slender foot, amid the slippery shrouds.
He, oft, by moonlight-watch, had lured my ear
With everlasting stories of his home
And of his mother. His fair brow told tales
Of household kisses, and of gentle hands
That bound it when it ached, and laid it down
On the soft pillow, with a curtaining care.
And he had sometimes spoken of the cheer
That waited him, when wearied from his school,
At winter's eve, he came. Then he would pause
For his high-beating bosom threw a chain
O'er his proud lip, or else it would have sighed
A deep remorse for leaving such a home.
And he would haste away, and pace the deck
More rapidly, as if to hide from me
The gushing tear. I marked the inward strife
Unquestioning, save by a silent prayer,
That the tear wrung so bitterly, might work
The sea-boy's good and wash away all trace
Of disobedience. Now, the same big tear
Hung like a pearl upon him, as he climbed
And grappled to the mast. I watched his toil,
