Classic Poem

A few brief hours — how quick they fly —
Our barks together bore.
Away! black clouds begrime the sky,
Go seek the safer shore.

For round my boat will billows foam,
Ahead will breakers roll.
Away! who fain with me would roam
Must bear no shrinking soul.

I do not blame — I don't complain,
You should lie close and warm,
For me, I love the hurricane,
Am kindred with the storm.

Because my star's obscured from view,
Doubt fills your faltering breast;
But my heart's needle still points true;
To God I leave the rest.

Her sail fades o'er the whitening wave,
She sights her bowers of ease,
But round me soon will storms rave,
And rise great angry seas.

The thunders crash — the lightnings flare —
The wild surge sweeps each mast —
But tho' my keel should plough the air,
I'll gain the goal at last.

Away! who loves may follow me.
Hark to the canvas strain!
Away! to win the argosy
That plows the distant main!