Poems (Eckley)/At Sea

by Sophia May Eckley

For works with similar titles, see At Sea.

AT SEA.

IGHT frowns again upon the deep,
 Yet o'er the wave we mark
The silvery folds of spray, which tell
 Our lonely pathway dark.

Hark to old ocean's weird harp,—
 With dripping finger light,
The breeze awakes the rippling keys
 To solemn Psalm of night.

Nor sculptur'd hills in misty view,
 Cheer us with hope of land;
Nor flowers breathe their incense sweet
 Upon our floating band.

But gallantly, and stately still,
 Our ship rides through the foam;
While faints in gathering mist of night
 Our country and our home.

"Asia;" 1855.