Short Poems

“Would see my log-book? Fairly writ,
With pen of steel, and ink of blood!
How lightly doth the conscience sit!
Learn, truth 's the only good.”
And thus, with flout, and cold and impious jeer,
He fled repentance, if he scaped not fear.

He and his crew were flush of gold.
“You did not lose your cargo, then?”
“Where all is fairly bought and sold,
Heaven prospers those true men.
Forsake your evil ways, as we forsook
Our ways of sin, and honest courses took!

Next day at noon, within the town,
All stare and wonder much to see
Matt and his men come strolling down;
Boys shouting, “Here comes Lee!”
“Thy ship, good Lee?” “Not many leagues from shore
Our ship by chance took fire.”—They learned no more.

Within the bay, one stormy night,
The isle-men saw boats make for shore,
With here and there a dancing light,
That flashed on man and oar.
When hailed, the rowing stopped, and all was dark.
“Ha! lantern-work!—We 'll home! They 're playing shark!”

When told the hardships thou hadst borne,
Her words to thee were like a charm.
With uncheered grief her heart is worn;
Thou wilt not do her harm?
He looks out on the sea that sleeps in light,
And growls an oath,—“It is too still to-night!”

The moon comes up; the night goes on.
Why, in the shadow of the mast,
Stands that dark, thoughtful man alone?
Thy pledge!—nay, keep it fast!
Bethink thee of her youth and sorrows, Lee;
Helpless, alone,—and, then, her trust in thee.

Sleep, sleep, thou sad one on the sea!
The wash of waters lulls thee now;
His arm no more will pillow thee,
Thy fingers on his brow.
He is not near, to hush thee, or to save.
The ground is his, the sea must be thy grave.

And now the stars are burning bright;
Yet still she 's looking toward the shore
Beyond the waters black in night.
“I ne'er shall see thee more!
Ye 're many, waves, yet lonely seems your flow;
And I'm alone,—scarce know I where I go.”

The sun goes down upon the sea;
The shadows gather round her home.
“How like a pall are ye to me!
My home, how like a tomb!
O, blow, ye flowers of Spain, above his head!
Ye will not blow o'er me when I am dead.”

Lee feigned him grieved, and bowed him low.
'T would joy his heart, could he but aid
So good a lady in her woe,
He meekly, smoothly said.
With wealth and servants she is soon aboard,
And that white steed she rode beside her lord.