Classic Poem

Tost on the wide expanse of sea,
And far from any friendly shore,
Alas! between my love and me
How many angry billows roar!

Yet even on the stormy main
Thy image oft will intervene,
The hope to see thee once again
Dispels the horrors of the scene.

Loud rise the winds, the billows roll,
All toss upon the tossing sea;
But firmly-rooted in my soul
Remain the thoughts of love and thee.

Alternate billows fall and rise,
And fierce and loud the tempests blow,
And now we're mounting to the skies,
Now sinking in the gulph below:

And now in each successive wave
An instant death we fear to meet,
The parting sea unfolds a grave
That fearful yawns beneath our feet.

Yet if I reach the shore again,
Nor find myself by thee forgot,
With pleasure thus repaying pain
I'll prize the dangers of my lot.