Select Poetry.

Otago Witness, Issue 1189, 12 September 1874, Page 21

Select Poetry.

THE SQUALL.

The nfchest shave of death I've had ? Well, wait till my pipe's alight, Throw a log' of the drift-wood on the blaze, And I'll spin you a yarn to-night. Danger ! you'll meet it upon the deep, Nor shun'it upon the land ; I take it, the .sea and the shore aliko Are held in God's mighty hand. Many's the tug and the tussle The sea and I have had, Since I sailed away to the whalery, When I was a hit of a lad. But not on tho Greenland waters, Among' the iioes and the pack, And not on the great Atlantio, With the gales upon our track ; And not where the breakers whiten tho reefs By the cliffs of Elainore, Have I been through such a perilous time As last week, a mile from share. There was me, and Bill, and Mather, All good sea-farmg 1 men ; I ca.i handle a rope as well as most, Though I'm pant three-score and ten. The wind was whispering like a bairn, In tho merry April weather, The great blue .sea and the yreat blue sky Seemed met like friends; together. We'd got a fair lot of flah aboard, I turned to say to Mat Wo might steer to shore : when he gripped my arm, And swore, " Look thou at that," Over the calm sea, black and keon, Blotting the glow of it all, Fast, and fierce, and cruel, and strong 1 , It came, it came, the squall. The crested waves to its summons sprang, Like tigers around the hoat ; D'»wn .swept tho drift, wiKl yelled tho blast, Wore we still alivo and afloat? Gone, the spot that markQ'l tho rock-buoy; Gone, the far faint line of homo ; There was nothing but hissing water and wind, The very air was foam, Mather baled and baled, I strove with the sheet, She laboured— fit to fill, None on us spoke, save just to shout To the helmsman, " Mind her, Bill." I'm none soft-hearted, but I thorn-lit How the bairns, at play on tho sand, Were watching to see the boat come in, And help with the fish to land. I thought of the hearths clean swept for us, And the poor old wifo, and all, While the waves poured over the gunwale, And we tossed and drove in the squall. And I thought a prayer to Him who trod On tho waters, and said, "Be still !" Mebby a Hand we could not see Held the rudder, along with Bill. We weathered it, we rounded the Nab, And cleared our eyes from the sea, And just shook hands, and hauled down sail, And took to the oars, we three. They say the ways of a woman Can puzzle the wisest yet ; I wot, she can never be harder to guide Than the old North Sea in a fret. I think I shall drown when my day Is done ; ' And I'd liefer rest in the deep Than moulder up in the churchgarfch there, Where the earthworms burrow and creep. I've served the sea tho.se sixty year, When it calls, as it will, I know, I'll be none su loath hear its voice, And say good-byq, a go. I shall better sleep where the billows Sing to the seaman's soul, Than where restless footsteps tramp and pass, And weary church-bells toll. But, till I hear and answer The great sea's solemn call, I shall never so near touch hands with death As on that spring day in the squall.