LESSON 3 THE FISHERMEN

THE FISHERMEN

Hurrah! the seaward breezes

Sweep down the bay amain [1] ;

Heave up, my lads, the anchor!

Run up the sail again!

Leave to the lubber landsmen

The railroad and the steed [2] ;

The stars of heaven shall guide us,

The breath of heaven shall speed.

From the hill-top looks the steeple,

And the lighthouse from the sand;

And the scattered pines are waving

Their farewell from the land.

One glance, my lads, behind us,

For the homes we leave one sigh,

Ere we take the change and chances

Of the ocean and the sky.

We'll drop our lines, and gather

Old Ocean's treasures in,

Where'er the mottled mackerel

Turns up a steel-dark fin.

The sea's our field of harvest,

Its scaly tribes [3] , our grain;

We'll reap the teeming waters;

At home, they reap the plain.

WE WILL WHISTLE DOWN THE WILD WIND.

Though the mist upon our jackets

In the bitter air congeals [4] ,

And our lines wind stiff and slowly

From off the frozen, reels;

Though the fog be dark around us,

And the storm blow high and loud,

We will whistle down the wild wind,

And laugh beneath the cloud.

In the darkness as in daylight,

On the water as on land,

God's eye is looking on us,

And beneath us is His hand!

Death will find us soon or later,

On the deck or in the cot;

And we cannot meet him better

Than in working out our lot.

—JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

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[1] amain: With force.

[2] steed: Horse.

[3] scaly tribes: Fish.

[4] congeals: Freezes; turns to ice.