Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/114

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" the main top-mast, ho!" The storm was loud, And the deep midnight muffled up her head, Leaving no ray. By the red binnacle I saw the sea-boy. His young cheek was pale, And his lip trembled. But he dared not hear That hoarse command repeated. So he sprang, With slender foot, amid the slippery shrouds. He, oft, by moonlight-watch, had lured my ear With everlasting stories of his home And of his mother. His fair brow told tales Of household kisses, and of gentle hands That bound it when it ached, and laid it down On the soft pillow, with a curtaining care. And he had sometimes spoken of the cheer That waited him, when wearied from his school, At winter's eve, he came. Then he would pause For his high-beating bosom threw a chain O'er his proud lip, or else it would have sighed A deep remorse for leaving such a home. And he would haste away, and pace the deck More rapidly, as if to hide from me The gushing tear. I marked the inward strife Unquestioning, save by a silent prayer, That the tear wrung so bitterly, might work The sea-boy's good and wash away all trace Of disobedience. Now, the same big tear Hung like a pearl upon him, as he climbed And grappled to the mast. I watched his toil,