THE SAILOR BOY.

He rose at dawn and, fired with hope,

Shot o'er the seething harbor-bar,

And reach'd the ship and caught the rope,

And whistled to the morning star.

And while he whistled long and loud

He heard a fierce mermaiden cry,

`O boy, tho’ thou art young and proud,

I see the place where thou wilt lie.

`The sands and yeasty surges mix

In caves about the dreary bay,

And on thy ribs the limpet sticks,

And in thy heart the scrawl shall play.’

`Fool,’ he answer'd, `death is sure

To those that stay and those that roam,

But I will nevermore endure

To sit with empty hands at home.

`My mother clings about my neck,

My sisters crying “stay for shame;”

My father raves of death and wreck,

They are all to blame, they are all to blame.

`God help me! save I take my part

Of danger in the roaring sea,

A devil rises in my heart,

Far worse than any death to me.’