Classic Poem

A LOATING on the Sea,
My little Boat with me
Drifts out on the Tide
As the Billows glide.
Whither will I go?
Will I gently row,
Or will I wait to see
Which is the Way for me?
Now the Hour grows dark,
And I see no Mark
By which to guide me on, —
I must wait the Dawn.

Drifting with the Tide,
Near the Rocks I glide —
Heavy Clouds overcast,
Lightning that might blast,
Now conspire to fright me —
The Dawn will come to light me.
Dawn is here at last.
Danger now has passed.
I raise my Sails on high
As energized I fly
Over a sunlit Sea,
Dancing as I flee.