Classic Poem

A ROMAIC BALLAD

Thou that hast a daughter
— For one to woo and wed,
Give her to a husband
— With snow upon his head;
Oh, give her to an old man,
— Though little joy it be,
Before the best young sailor
— That sails upon the sea!

How luckless is the sailor
— When sick and like to die;
He sees no tender mother,
— No sweetheart standing by.
Only the captain speaks to him, —
— Stand up, stand up, young man,
And steer the ship to haven,
— As none beside thee can.

Thou says't to me, " Stand, stand up " ;
— I say to thee, take hold,
Lift me a little from the deck,
— My hands and feet are cold.
And let my head, I pray thee,
— With handkerchiefs be bound;
There, take my love's gold handkerchief,
— And tie it tightly round.

Now bring the chart, the doleful chart;
— See, where these mountains meet —
The clouds are thick around their head,
— The mists around their feet:
Cast anchor here; 'tis deep and safe
— Within the rocky cleft;
The little anchor on the right,
— The great one on the left.

And now to thee, O captain,
— Most earnestly I pray,
That they may never bury me
— In church or cloister gray; —
But on the windy sea-beach,
— At the ending of the land,
All on the surfy sea-beach,
— Deep down into the sand.

For there will come the sailors,
— Their voices I shall hear,
And at casting of the anchor
— The yo-ho loud and clear;
And at hauling of the anchor
— The yo-ho and the cheer, —
Farewell, my love, for to thy bay
— I never more may steer!