Seraphim/The Minute Gun

by R. S. Sharpe

For other versions of this work, see The Minute Gun at Sea.

THE MINUTE GUN.

When in the storm Albion's coast,
The night-watch guards his wary post
From thoughts of danger free;
He marks some vessel's dusky form,
And hears amid some howling storm,
The minute gun at sea.

Swift the shore a hardy few,
The life-boat man with a gallant crew,
And dare the dangerous wave;
Through the wild surf they cleave that way,
Lost in the foam, nor know dismay,
For they go the crew to save.

But oh what rapture fills each breast
Of the hapless crew of the ship distress'd,
Then landed safe what joy to tell,
Of all the dangers that befel,
Then heard is no more,
By the watch on the shore.
The minute gun at sea.