THE SAILOR AND HIS BRIDE

"LET out the wet dun sail, my lads,
   The foam is flying fast;
 It whistles on the fav'ring gale,
   To-night we'll anchor cast.
 What though the storm be loud, my lads,
   And danger on the blast;
 Though bursting sail swell round and proud,
   And groan the straining mast;
 The storm has wide, strong wings, my lads,
   On them our craft shall ride,
 And dear the tempest swift that brings
   The sailor to his bride."

"Fear not the tempest shrill, my heart,
   The tall, white breakers' wrath;
 I would not have the wild winds still
   Along the good ship's path.
 The ship is staunch and strong, my heart,
   The wind blows to the strand;
 Why tremble? for its fiercest song
   But drives the ship to land.
 Be still, nor throb so fast, my heart,
   The storm but brings, betide
What may to ship and straining mast,
   My sailor to his bride."

 Blow soft and low, and sigh, O gale!
   Sob, sea, upon the bar!
 No more o'er thee the ship shall fly
   White-winged as vesper star.
 Roll up the shattered mast, O gale!
   Upon the yellow strand.

 A dead man's form cast, gently cast,
   Upon the waiting land.
 And when again thy breath, O gale!
   Wails o'er the vaulting tide,
 Bear not a hurtling wings of death
   A sailor to his bride.