Classic Poem

Early in the evening of a beautiful summer's day, I stood, with
thousands of my fellow creatures, on the dock of one of our northern
cities, to witness the departure of a noble steamer, which sat upon
the blue waters like a sea bird at rest, freighted with the wealth and
beauty of the land. The golden sun had sunk behind the curtains of the
west, bathing the earth with a flood of crimson glory; and the noisy
hum of busy life was hushed, as the quiet shades of twilight fell upon
the tired citizens of the great metropolis.

Here and there among the crowd could be distinguished a group of kind
friends, gathered around some loved companion, who would soon be

"Far out o'er the ocean blue."

Here a careless, merry set of fellows were trying, with their bright
wit and lively sallies, to cheer a young companion who was about to
leave the home of his boyhood, to seek a name and a fortune a far
distant land.

There stands a pale, care-worn, yet lovely woman, with a tear which
she cannot restrain, coursing down her cheek, as with a convulsive
pressure of the hand and a murmured, "God bless you," she parts with
her son. He is her only son, and she is a widow.

In yonder proud city a home awaits him, where he can earn a slight
pittance, to keep them from starving.

The grey-haired sire, the blooming youth, the middle aged, are all
here, parting with their friends, while yonder gay throng, with light
laugh and bandied jest, are offering the congratulations and the
parting salutations to a fair young bride, arrayed in all the
gorgeousness of wealth and beauty.

The last word is spoken, the last fond pressure of the hand, and
the last farewell kiss are all given, and amid the cheers of the
multitude, and the whistle of the engine, the ringing of the bell, and
the puff of the steam, the noble ship leaves the wharf, and ploughs
her way on the billowy deep, and the busy throng seek their homes,
their hearts beating high in anticipation of a coming day, when they
shall again welcome the absent friends, scarcely a thought of pain or
death mars their bright hope.

* * * * *

The hours pass on. The full orbed moon rides forth, enthroned among
her retinue of stars, in a clear cerulean sky, bathing all things
beautiful in a mellow light. Far out upon the blue waters rides the
noble steamer, like a thing of life, leaving a long wake of white foam
behind. Her numerous passengers had laid down to dream of home and
happiness. The gay youth is with his companions, the poor boy with his
widowed mother, the bride in the home of her youth--all are living
over again the scenes that are past.

As they thus lie, lulled in security, the startling cry of "Fire!
fire?--the ship is on fire!" breaks in an appalling sound on the ear.
Every one springs instantly to their feet, and every possible means
are resorted to, to quench the flames, but all in vain; the flames
rush on, and in agony the passengers and crew await their doom. The
man of God, with his white hair streaming over his shoulders, is
calling upon them to make their peace with God; and anon he kneels
and commends them to his kind care. The voice of prayer, the hymn of
praise, the groan of agony, the silent tear, the piercing shriek, are
alike in vain. The destroyer speeds on; the awful announcement is made
that there is powder on board! Oh, the untold misery of that hour, as
in speechless agony they watch the flames. It came at last--and with
one shriek of despair, the doomed victims were hurled into eternity,
and far and wide over the waters were scattered the remains of the
steamer and her crew.

Morn came. The waves sparkled merrily in the sunbeams, and not a trace
of the fell destroyer remains; but far--far down in the depth of the
ocean, on a bed of green sea flowers, reposes the form of that fair
young bride--the friend of my youth.