HER VOYAGE IS AT AN END.

Hushed was the ocean's stormy roar,

Still as an infant's joy;

There sat upon the rocky shore

A father and his boy.

Far off they saw a gallant ship,

It came from foreign lands;

The boy began to dance and skip,

And clap his little hands.

Her wished-for port is near at hand,

The ship is hastening on;

They hear the birds sing on the land;

Her voyage is nearly done.

The boy's glad notes, his shouts of glee,

The rocks with music fill;

But now he cries,— “See, father, see!

The ship is standing still.”

Her masts are trembling from the shock.

Her white sails all descend;

The ship has struck upon a rock,—

Her voyage is at an end.

The sailors hurry to and fro,

All crowded is the deck;

She struggles hard,— she's free;— O, no!

She is indeed a wreck.

The boy's young heart is full of grief:

“Father! what will she do?

Let's take the boat to her relief,

O, quickly let us go!”

They went,— and many a stronger hand

Its ready succour gave;

They brought the crew all safe to land,

And the cargo tried to save.

The night comes on, the night is dark,

More dark the billows seem;

They break against the ship, and hark!

The seamew's mournful scream.

The boy upon his pillow lies,

In sweet repose he sinks;

And, as he shuts his weary eyes,

On the poor ship he thinks.

The sun shines o'er the watery main

As it did the day before;

The father and his son again

Are seated on the shore.

With the western wind full many a boat

Their white sails gayly fill,

They lightly o'er the blue waves float,—

But the gallant ship is still.

The sailors now the mournful wreck

Of masts and rigging strip;

The waves are playing o'er the deck

Of the sad and ruined ship.

A crow upon the top branch stood

Of a lone and blasted tree;

He seemed to look upon the flood

With a gloomy sympathy.

The boy now looks up at the bird,

At the sinking vessel now;

He does not speak a single word.

But a shade is on his brow.

Now slowly comes a towering wave,

And sweeps with triumph on;

It bears her to her watery grave,—

The gallant ship is gone.

Hushed is the ocean's stormy roar,

Still as an infant's joy;

The father sits upon the shore

In silence with his boy.