The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride
In the breath of the citron shades;

And Severn's towering mast securely now hies fast,
Through the seas of the balmy Trades.

From St. Jago's wealthy port, from Havannah's royal fort, The seaman goes forth without fear;

For since that stormy night not a mortal hath had sight Of the flag of the last Buccaneer.

Thomas Babington Macaulay [1800-1859]

THE LEADSMAN'S SONG

FOR England, when with favoring gale,
Our gallant ship up Channel steered,
And scudding, under easy sail,

The high blue western lands appeared,
To heave the lead the seaman sprang,
And to the pilot cheerly sang,
"By the deep-Nine."

And bearing up to gain the port,

Some well-known object kept in view,
An abbey tower, a ruined fort,

A beacon to the vessel true;

While oft the lead the seaman flung,
And to the pilot cheerly sung,
"By the mark-Seven."

And as the much-loved shore we near,
With transport we behold the roof
Where dwelt a friend or partner dear,
Of faith and love and matchless proof.
The lead once more the seaman flung,
And to the watchful pilot sung,
"Quarter less-Five."

Now to her berth the ship draws nigh,
With slackened sail she feels the tide,
Stand clear the cable is the cry,
The anchor's gone, we safely ride.

Homeward Bound

The watch is set, and through the night,
We hear the seaman with delight

Proclaim-" All's well."

1633

Charles Dibdin [1745-1814]

HOMEWARD BOUND

HEAD the ship for England!

Shake out every sail!
Blithe leap the billows,
Merry sings the gale.
Captain, work the reckoning;

How many knots a day?—
Round the world and home again,
That's the sailor's way!

We've traded with the Yankees,
Brazilians and Chinese;

We've laughed with dusky beauties
In shade of tall palm-trees;
Across the line and Gulf-Stream-
Round by Table Bay-

Everywhere and home again,

That's the sailor's way!

Nightly stands the North Star

Higher on our bow;

Straight we run for England;
Our thoughts are in it now.
Jolly times with friends ashore,
When we've drawn our pay!-
All about and home again,
That's the sailor's way!

Tom will to his parents,
Jack will to his dear,
Joe to wife and children,
Bob to pipes and beer;
Dicky to the dancing-room,

To hear the fiddles play;—

Round the world and home again,

That's the sailor's way!

William Allingham [1824-1889]

THE SIMPLE LIFE

THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE

I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always, night and day,

I hear lake-water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray, I hear it in the deep heart's core.

William Butler Yeats [1865

A WISH

MINE be a cot beside the hill;

A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear;
A willowy brook that turns a mill,
With many a fall shall linger near.

The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch
Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;
Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,
And share my meal, a welcome guest.

Around my ivied porch shall spring
Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;
And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing
In russet-gown and apron blue.

"Thrice Happy He"

The village-church among the trees,
Where first our marriage-vows were given,
With merry peals shall swell the breeze

And point with taper spire to Heaven.

1635

Samuel Rogers [1763-1855]

ODE ON SOLITUDE

HAPPY the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,

Content to breathe his native air

In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,

Whose flocks supply him with attire;

Whose trees in summer yield him shade,'

In winter, fire.

Blest, who can unconcernedly find
Hours, days, and years, slide soft away
In health of body, peace of mind,

Quiet by day;

Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mixed, sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,

With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;

Thus unlamented let me die;

Steal from the world, and not a stone

Tell where I lie.

Alexander Pope [1688-1744]

"THRICE HAPPY HE"

THRICE happy he, who by some shady grove,
Far from the clamorous world, doth live his own;

Though solitary, who is not alone,

But doth converse with that eternal love.

O how more sweet is birds' harmonious moan,
Or the soft sobbings of the widowed dove,
Than those smooth whisperings near a prince's throne,
Which good make doubtful, do the evil approve!
Or how more sweet is Zephyr's wholesome breath,
And sighs perfumed which do the flowers unfold,
Than that applause vain honor doth bequeath!
How sweet are streams to poison drunk in gold!
The world is full of horrors, falsehoods, slights;
Woods' silent shades have only true delights.

William Drummond [1585-1649]

UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE"
From "As You Like It "

UNDER the greenwood tree,

Who loves to lie with me,

And turn his merry note

Unto the sweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

Who doth ambition shun,

And loves to live i' the sun,

Seeking the food he eats,

And pleased with what he gets,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

William Shakespeare [1564-1616]

CORIDON'S SONG

In "The Complete Angler "

Он, the sweet contentment
The countryman doth find.
High trolollie lollie loe,
High trolollie lee,