Classic Poem

At midnight, on the trackless sea's expanse,
When all the lights on board have long been quenched,
When e'en in heav'n above there gleams no star,
Still glimmers on the deck a little lamp,
A wick protected from all gusty winds,
That shews the needle to the steerer's gaze,
Revealing most unerringly his course.
So—would we heed it—burns within our breasts
A steady light, to guide thro' every gloom.