Like an eagle caged, I pine On this dull, unchanging shore: The spray and the tempest's roar! Once more on the deck I stand We shoot through the sparkling foam Like the ocean-bird, our home We'll find far out on the sea. The land is no longer in view, The clouds have begun to frown; We'll say, Let the storm come down! While the winds and the waters rave, A home on the rolling sea! A life on the ocean wave! WALTER MITCHELL TACKING SHIP OFF SHORE The weather-leech of the topsail shivers, The bowlines strain, and the lee-shrouds slacken, The braces are taut, the lithe boom quivers, 25 And the waves with the coming squall-cloud blacken. Open one point on the weather-bow, Is the light-house tall on Fire Island Head. There's a shade of doubt on the captain's brow, And the pilot watches the heaving lead. 5 I stand at the wheel, and with eager eye The ship bends lower before the breeze, It is silence all, as each in his place, With the gathered coil in his hardened hands, 15 By tack and bowline, by sheet and brace, Waiting the watchword impatient stands. And the light on Fire Island Head draws near, 25 No time to spare! It is touch and go; And the captain growls, "Down helm! Hard down!" As my weight on the whirling spokes I throw, While heaven grows black with the storm-cloud's frown. |