This page has been validated.
102
THE HAPPY MARINER.
Even, if our sails like ribbons fly,
And the dead-lights long are in,
Hard up the helm! and keep good heart!
Till skies are bright again.
The Ocean is my garden,
Our vessel ploughs the brine,
And the pleasant fruits that there I reap,
Are my friends' as well as mine,
My friends, who lead such stupid lives
On land, among the flowers,
I'm sure my wages they must need
To cheer their gloomy hours.
My books, they are the fleecy waves,
And when the moonbeams shine,
Methinks, a pencil on their page
Doth write the Name Divine.
Yes, I'm a happy mariner,
If any do me wrong
