Classic Poem

Blow, gentle gale! my pinnace sleeps
Upon the sea;
In yonder tower, my Ella keeps
Her watch for me!
Ah! lift my snow white sail,
Thou gentle gale.
Breeze, pleasant breeze, where dallyest thou?
On beds of flowers?
Come, with their odors round thee now.
Come from their bowers!
And fill my drooping sail,
Thou gentle gale!

Come! lovely wind — a fairer rose
Awaits thy kiss;
On Ella's cheek thou may'st repose
And faint with bliss.
So thou wilt stir my sail,
Thou gentle gale!

Ah, joy! the waters crimson dyed,
Far, far away,
Touched by thy unseen pinions, glide
In merry play;
Fill, fill my shivering sail,
Thou gentle gale.

Thanks, gentle gale! my pinnace rocks —
My streamers fly —
The mists float on, like soaring flocks,
Along the sky;
Press, press my willing sail!
Thou gentle gale!

Blow on, sweet breeze! — a moment more
And I shall see
Her signal waving from the shore
To welcome me;
Rend, if thou wilt, my sail!
Blow, gentle gale!