Page:Poems and essays (IA poemsessays00howerich).pdf/41
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Acadia.
35
As twilight fades, and all around is dark,
He furls his sail and moors his little bark ;
And as his line to ocean's depths descends
In patient hope he o'er the gunwale bends,
And if with plenty Heaven his prayers shall bless,
Heeds not the toil that's followed by success.
But if kind fortune should refuse to smile,
Thought, busy thought, will many an hour beguile;
The swelling billow rarely breaks his rest,
But seems the heaving of a mother's breast,
For now the moon is up, and all her pride
Of pomp and splendor rests upon the tide;
Dear to the Lover is her silver gleam,
Dear, doubly dear, the Poet loves her beam;
But, holier far, the charms her smiles impart,
To cheer the lonely Fisher's drooping heart.
He furls his sail and moors his little bark ;
And as his line to ocean's depths descends
In patient hope he o'er the gunwale bends,
And if with plenty Heaven his prayers shall bless,
Heeds not the toil that's followed by success.
But if kind fortune should refuse to smile,
Thought, busy thought, will many an hour beguile;
The swelling billow rarely breaks his rest,
But seems the heaving of a mother's breast,
For now the moon is up, and all her pride
Of pomp and splendor rests upon the tide;
Dear to the Lover is her silver gleam,
Dear, doubly dear, the Poet loves her beam;
But, holier far, the charms her smiles impart,
To cheer the lonely Fisher's drooping heart.
But see, yon little cloud, slow rising o'er
The horizon's edge, is spreading more and more;
Though but a speck, when first it met the eye,
'Tis stealing fast o'er all the bright blue sky,
Till like the conq'rers path, although we find
Beauty before, there's nought but gloom behind.
The winds are up, and o'er the arch of Heaven
With many a crash the fiery bolts are driven,
While waves o'er waves in Alpine grandeur risc,
As though they spurned the threatenings of the skies.
The Fisher's mooring parts, and high in air
His Bark is tost, but God he feels is there;
Down in some frightful gulf it next descends,
But still on skill and coolness he depends.
The horizon's edge, is spreading more and more;
Though but a speck, when first it met the eye,
'Tis stealing fast o'er all the bright blue sky,
Till like the conq'rers path, although we find
Beauty before, there's nought but gloom behind.
The winds are up, and o'er the arch of Heaven
With many a crash the fiery bolts are driven,
While waves o'er waves in Alpine grandeur risc,
As though they spurned the threatenings of the skies.
The Fisher's mooring parts, and high in air
His Bark is tost, but God he feels is there;
Down in some frightful gulf it next descends,
But still on skill and coolness he depends.