A quiet smile played round his lips, As the eddies and dimples of the tide That steadily at anchor ride. And with a voice that was full of glee, He answered, "Ere long we will launch And first with nicest skill and art, That with a hand more swift and sure And signal lanterns and flags afloat, And eight round towers, like those that frown From some old castle, looking down Upon the drawbridge and the moat. THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP. 31 And he said with a smile, "Our ship, I wis, Shall be of another form than this!" It was of another form, indeed; Built for freight, and yet for speed, A beautiful and gallant craft; Broad in the beam, that the stress of the blast, Pressing down upon sail and mast, Might not the sharp bows overwhelm ; Broad in the beam, but sloping aft With graceful curve and slow degrees, In the ship-yard stood the Master, That should laugh at all disaster, And with wave and whirlwind wrestle! Covering many a rood of ground, Lay the timber piled around; Timber of chesnut, and elm, and oak, And scattered here and there, with these, The knarred and crooked cedar knees; Brought from regions far away, And the banks of the roaring Roanoke! 32 THE SEASIDE AND THE FIRESIDE. Ah! what a wondrous thing it is To note how many wheels of toil One thought, one word, can set in motion! There's not a ship that sails the ocean, But every climate, every soil, Must bring its tribute, great or small, And help to build the wooden wall! The sun was rising o'er the sea, Had hewn and laid them every one, Beautiful they were, in sooth, The heir of his house, and his daughter's hand, When he had built and launched from land What the elder head had planned. "Thus," said he, "will we build this ship! the blocks upon the slip, Lay square And follow well this plan of mine. Choose the timbers with greatest care; Of all that is unsound beware; F For only what is sound and strong Cedar of Maine and Georgia pine A goodly frame, and a goodly fame, For the day that gives her to the sea The Master's word Enraptured the young man heard ; Her father's door, He saw the form of his promised bride. The sun shone on her golden hair, And her cheek was glowing fresh and fair, With the breath of morn and the soft sea air. Like a beauteous barge was she, Still at rest on the sandy beach, Just beyond the billow's reach; But he Was the restless, seething, stormy sea! Ah, how skilful grows the hand That obeyeth Love's command! |