Classic Poem

We rest at Peter's Point to-night,—
Blow light, ye winds! flow smooth, ye billows!
The promised headland heaves in sight,
Where we shall stay, till morning light,
And bind our bark beneath the willows.
Heave, boatmen! heave, and sweep the oar;
Soon we shall drown all care and sorrow.
Bend to the willow-bordered shore,
And there repose till early morrow.

We rest at Peter's Point to-night,—
And now we hear its billows breaking;
The golden sun is setting bright,
The wild swans take their homeward flight,
The owl her lonely hoot is waking.
Heave, boatman! heave, and sweep the oar,
And dash the white foam from the billows;
Bend to the soft and sandy shore,
And bind the bark beneath the willows.

And now the boat draws nigh to land,
The winds blow light and kiss the billows;
The boatmen leap upon the strand,
And draw their bark upon the sand,
And bind it fast beneath the willows.
Now, boatmen! rest upon the oar,—
The sun has set, your toils are over.
Eat, drink, and dream of care no more,
And sing, “How gay the Western rover!