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64 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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THOMAS D'ARCY M'GEE (1825-1868)
DEATH OF THE HOMEWARD BOUND
PALER and thinner the morning moon grew, Colder and sterner the rising wind blew — The pole-star had set in a forest of cloud, -And the icicles cracked on spar and on shroud, When a voice from below we heard feebly cry, "Let me see->-let me see—my own Land ere I die.
"Ah, dear sailor, say, have we sighted Cape Clear? Can you see any sign ? Is the morning light near ? You are young, my brave boy; thanks, thanks, for
your hand, Help me up, till I get a last glimpse of the land — Thank God, 'tis the sun that now reddens the sky, I shall see—I shall see—my own Land ere I die.
"Let me lean on your strength, I am feeble and old, And one-half of my heart is already stone cold — Forty years work a change ! when I first crossed the
sea There were few on the deck that could grapple with
me; But my prime and my youth in Ohio went by And I'm come back to see the old spot ere I die."
'Twas a feeble old man, and he stood on the deck, His arm round a kindly young mariner's neck, |
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