THE SAILOR.
Oh gloriously upon the deep
The gallant vessel rides,
And she is mistress of the winds,
And mistress of the tides.
And never but for her tall ships
Had England been so proud!
Or before the might of the Island Queen
The Kings of the earth had bowed.
But, alas! for the widow and orphan's tear,
When the death-flag sweeps the wave;
Alas, that the laurel of Victory
Must grow but upon the grave!
An aged widow with one only child,
And even he was far away at sea:
Narrow and mean the street wherein she dwelt,
