THE FISHER BOY .

A H ! Fisher Boy, I well know thee,
Brother thou art to Marion Lee!
What! didst thou think I knew thee not,
Couldst thou believe I had forgot?
For shame, for shame! what? I forget
The treasures of thy laden net!
And how we went one day together,
One day of showery summer weather,
Up the sea-shore, and for an hour
Stood sheltering from a pelting shower
Within an upturned, ancient boat,
That had not been for years afloat!
No, no, my boy! I liked too well
The old sea-stories thou didst tell;
I liked too well thy roguish eye —
Thy merry speech — thy laughter sly;
Thy old sea-jacket, to forget, —
And then the treasures of thy net
Oh, Andrew! thou hast not forgot,
I'm very sure that thou hast not,
All that we talked about that day,
Of famous countries far away!
Of Crusoes in their islands lone,
That never were, nor will be known,
And yet this very moment stand
Upon some point of mountain land,
Looking out o'er the desert sea.
If chance some coming ship there be.
Thou know'st we talked of this — thou know'st
We talked about a ship-boy's ghost —
A wretched little orphan lad
Who served a master stern and bad,
And had no friend to take his part,
And perished of a broken heart;
Or by his master's blows, some said,
For in the boat they found him dead,
And the boat's side was stained and red!

And then we talked of many a heap
Of ancient treasure in the deep,
And the great serpent that some men
In far-off seas, meet now and then;
Of grand sea-palaces that shine
Through forests of old coralline;
And wondrous creatures that may dwell
In many a crimson Indian shell;
Till I shook hands with thee, to see
Thou wast a poet — Andrew Lee!
Though thou wast guiltless all the time
Of putting any thoughts in rhyme:
Ah, little fisher boy! since then,
Ladies I've seen and learned men,
All clever, and some great and wise,
Who study all things, earth and skies,
Who much have seen, and much have read,
And famous things have writ and said;
But Andrew, never have I heard
One who so much my spirit stirred,
As he who sate with me an hour,
Screened from the pelting thunder-shower —
Now laughing in his merry wit;
Now talking in a serious fit,
In speech that poured like water free;
And that was thou — Poor Andrew Lee

Then shame to think I knew thee not —
Thou hast not, nor have I forgot;
And long 'twill be ere I forget
How thou took'st up thy laden net,
And gave me all that it contained,
Because I too thy heart had gained!