Classic Poem

The clouds are scudding across the moon;
— A misty light is on the sea;
The wind in the shrouds has a wintry tune,
— And the foam is flying free.

Brothers, a night of terror and gloom
— Speaks in the cloud and gathering roar;
Thank God, He has given us broad sea-room,
— A thousand miles from shore.

Down with the hatches on those who sleep!
— The wild and whistling deck have we;
Good watch, my brothers, to-night we'll keep,
— While the tempest is on the sea!

Though the rigging shriek in his terrible grip,
— And the naked spars be snapped away,
Lashed to the helm, we'll drive our ship
— In the teeth of the whelming spray!

Hark! how the surges o'erleap the deck!
— Hark! how the pitiless tempest raves!
Ah, daylight will look upon many a wreck
— Drifting over the desert waves.

Yet, courage, brothers! we trust the wave,
— With God above us, our guiding chart.
So, whether to harbor or ocean-grave,
— Be it still with a cheery heart!