Poems (Charlotte Allen)/The Boys and their Boats

by Charlotte Allen

THE BOYS AND THEIR BOATS.

While walking in the fields one day,
I saw two little boys at play,
 Near by a streamlet's brink;
A tiny boat each boy possessed,
And happiness so filled each breast,
 I could but pause and think,
And wish that all their days could be
Like childhood's hours, pure and free.

And now they place each little boat
Upon the streamlet's breast to float,
 Impelled by gentlest gales;
And watching every wave that flows,
And every trifling breeze that blows,
 Filling their mimic sails.
In them I could most striking scan
The perfect miniature of man.

Awhile the boats majestic glide,
In fancied safety, side by side,
 Much to the youth's delight;
Who little deemed the hour was nigh,
When all those heartfelt joys would fly,
 Before misfortune's blight.
And well for us we cannot see,
All the ills that are to be.

The wind blew stronger from the shore,
And farther down the stream it bore
 Their little fragile boats;
Till, carried by the current's force,
A rock soon checked their rapid course,
 And on the surface floats
The wreck of both those vessels small,
The Boys' fond hopes, their little all.

And thus we do a picture see,
Of earthly hopes uncertainty,
 Upon the sea of Time;
With buoyancy we look before,
And brightest visions stealing o'er,
 Speak of another clime.
But fondest hopes are often lost,
And on despair's dark quicksands tost.

Our barque is launched on life's rough stream,
And it may prove a troubled dream
 To many a feeling soul;
But He, who at the helm presides,
Ever, as now, in safety guides,
 Towards that distant goal,
In radiant realms of endless light,
Beyond the view of mortal sight.