Page:Poems Follen.djvu/147

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her voyage is at an end.
141
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;
Oh! quickly let us go."

They went—and many a stronger hand
Its ready succor 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.