Classic Poem

How cheery are the mariners—
Those lovers of the sea!
Their hearts are like its yeasty waves,
As bounding and as free.
They whistle when the storm-bird wheels
In circles round the mast;
And sing when deep in foam the ship
Ploughs onward to the blast.

What care the mariners for gales?
There's music in their roar,
When wide the berth along the lee,
And leagues of room before.
Let billows toss to mountain heights,
Or sink to chasms low:
The vessel stout will ride it out,
Nor reel beneath the blow.

With streamers down and canvass furled,
The gallant hull will float
Securely, as on inland lake
A silken-tasseled boat;
And sound asleep some mariners,
And some, with watchful eyes,
Will fearless be of dangers dark
That roll along the skies.

God keep those cheery mariners!
And temper all the gales
That sweep against the rocky coast
To their storm-shattered sails;
And men on shore will bless the ship
That could so guided be,
Safe in the hollow of His hand,
To brave the mighty sea!