The Sea Queen

She does not dwell in far-off verdant lands,
No sailor's bride nor tar's fond lassie she;
No lover and no husband on the sea;
No golden circlet on her dainty hands;
No waiting heart she holds for one afar;
To none a love, to none an ocean star.
Only a little child, with fair blue eyes
That caught their colour from the restless wave,
A baby face, both winsome, bright, and grave,
A guileless cherub clothed in human guise,
Though but a tiny child with virtues few,
A wee small girl, the darling of the crew—
A majesty in embryo of state,
The pretty daughter of the second mate.
Her little heart unmindful of their wrongs,
She laughs, and jests, and shouts their drinking songs;
And, mixed with hymns her angel mother sang,
She uses all their jolly sea-born slang.
At night they hear her pray in lisping tones,
‘Protect us, Dod, from 'torms and Davy,
And guide the pilot watch till b'eak of day;
And teep the rats aboard the s'ip alway.’
Untutored infant, motherless, alone,
A baby vagabond that knows no home;
Beloved by all those storm-tossed, hardened men,
Her little life one long, despotic reign;
There's not a man among that loyal crew
But pays the homage to his idol due,
But checks his oaths when those pure footsteps pass,
And says beneath his breath, ‘God bless the lass!’
The second mate has taught his child to be
The sailor's pet, the sov'reign of the sea.
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