Classic Poem

Day follows day, and week succeeds to week,
And still they sail across the boundless main;
New homes in distant regions far to seek,
And civil and religious freedom gain.
How little do the timid landsmen know
Of sailors' toils, and watches on the sea;
When night returns, when loud the tempests blow,
What hardships, and what perils there may be!
While safe beneath the sheltering roof they sleep,
Nor heed the rising blast, nor dashing wave;
The seamen must their watchful vigils keep,
Lest ocean, at each moment, prove their grave;
Or, driven by tempests on some desert shore,
They see their native land and friends no more.