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THE SPARROW AT SEA.
45
THE SPARROW AT SEA.
GAINST the baffling winds, with slow advance,One drear December day,
Up the vexed Channel, toward the coast of France,
Our vessel urged her way.
Around the dim horizon's misty slopes
The storm its banners hung;
And pulling bravely at the heavy ropes,
The dripping sailors sung.
The storm its banners hung;
And pulling bravely at the heavy ropes,
The dripping sailors sung.
A little land-bird, from its home-nest warm,
Bewildered, driven, and lost,
With wearied wings, came drifting on the storm,
From the far English coast.
Bewildered, driven, and lost,
With wearied wings, came drifting on the storm,
From the far English coast.
Blown blindly onward, with a headlong speed
It could not guide or check,
Seeking some shelter in its utter need,
It dropped upon the deck.
It could not guide or check,
Seeking some shelter in its utter need,
It dropped upon the deck.
