THE BALLAD OF THE BOAT. BY RICHARD GARNETT.
Reading edition
This poem has passed in American books of selections as having been written by an unknown “R. Garrett,” this being mainly the consequence of an error in editing the little book called “Sea and Shore,” some twenty years ago. It now, however, appears as the work of a man dear to many Americans, Dr. Richard Garnett, late of the British Museum.
The stream was smooth as glass. We said: “Arise, and let’s away.” The Siren sang beside the boat that in the rushes lay, And spread the sail and strong the oar, we gayly took our way. When shall the sandy bar be crost? When shall we find the bay?
The broadening flood swells slowly out o’er cattle dotted plains; The stream is strong and turbulent, and dark with heavy rains; The laborer looks up to see our shallop speed away. When shall the sandy bar be crost? When shall we find the bay?
Now are the clouds like fiery shrouds; the sun, superbly large, Slow as an oak to woodman’s stroke, sinks flaming at their marge; The waves are bright with mirror’d light as jacinths on our way. When shall the sandy bar be crost? When shall we find the bay?
The moon is high up in the sky, and now no more we see The spreading river’s either bank, and surging distantly There booms a sudden thunder as of breakers far away; Now shall the sandy bar be crost, now shall we find the bay!
The seagull shrieks high overhead, and dimly to our sight The moonlit crests of foaming waves gleam towering through the night. We’ll steal upon the mermaid soon, and start her from her lay, When once the sandy bar is crost and we are in the bay.
What rises white and awful as a shroud enfolded ghost? What roar of rampant tumult bursts in clangor on the coast? Pull back! pull back! The raging flood sweeps every oar away. O stream, is this thy bar of sand? O boat, is this the bay?