The Lee Shore
Sleet! and Hail! and Thunder!
And ye Winds that rave,
Till the sands thereunder
Tinge the sullen wave—
Winds, that like a Demon,
Howl with horrid note
Round the toiling Seaman,
In his tossing boat—
From his humble dwelling,
On the shingly shore,
Where the billows swelling,
Keep such hollow roar—
From that weeping Woman,
Seeking with her cries
Succor superhuman
From the frowning skies—
From the Urchin pining
For his Father’s knee—
From the lattice shining—
Drive him out to sea!
Let broad leagues dissever
Him from yonder foam—
Oh, God! to think Man ever
Comes too near his Home!
The world is with me, and its many cares,
Its woes—its wants—the anxious hopes and fears
That wait on all terrestrial affairs—
The shades of former and of future years—
Foreboding fancies, and prophetic tears,
Quelling a spirit that was once elate:—
Heavens! what a wilderness the earth appears,
Where Youth, and Mirth, and Health are out of date!
But no—a laugh of innocence and joy
Resounds, like music of the fairy race,
And gladly turning from the world’s annoy
I gaze upon a little radiant face,
And bless, internally, the merry boy
Who “makes a son-shine in a shady-place.”