Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/191

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" not the sea,"—my father said, His locks were white with age, And low he bowed his reverend head Upon the Bible's page. "Tempt not the sea, my William dear," I heard my mother sigh, Saw on her furrowed cheek the tear, But rendered no reply.

That night,—it was the last, last time! From my sweet home I fled, The sabbath-bell with evening chime Reproached my rebel tread. One eye there was I shunned to meet, I could not bid farewell, And yet its tender glance was sweet, How sweet, I dared not tell.

For ah! the sea, the sea had bound My heart in wizard chain, My boyhood knew no tuneful sound Like the storm-stricken main. And when bright fancies o'er my soul In dreams their sway would urge, How proud the sapphire waves would roll Their white and crested surge.