Classic Poem

1. Memory carries my fancy Back to the
days that are long past and gone; There stands a sailor dressed in
garments of blue, Bidding a lone, weeping widow adieu.
Vows of the future he laughingly makes,
While from her finger a keeper she takes, And with
words so tender, broken with tears, These were the words whispered
into my ears: " 'Tis but a little golden ring she gave to
me with pride; Wear it for your mother's sake when you're on the
tide. If you are in trouble, comfort it will bring
To think of me while gazing on that little golden ring. "

2 Now it's " God bless us, " 'twixt Mother and me.
Good-by forever, perhaps it may be.
Then he turned and manfully strode,
Till hidden from view by a turn in the road.
When on the vessel the anchor is weighed,
Then for some strange destination they made,
But bright as a beacon my keeper doth gleam,
And the voice of my mother doth say in my dream:
" 'Tis but a little golden ring, " etc .

3 Time brought promotion and honor to me.
Duty was done as duty should be.
Every mail brought me a letter from home,
Oft-times were opened in grief, I must own.
Slowly but surely those letters decreased,
Then all of a sudden they silently ceased.
But bright as a beacon my keeper doth gleam,
And the voice of my mother doth say in my dream:
" 'Tis but a little golden ring, " etc .

4 Now then, old England's white cliffs are at hand;
Once more I see my own native land.
Strangers were there for to answer my call,