One That’s On The Sea

WITH gallant sail and streamer gay, Sweeping along the splendid bay, That, thronged by thousands, seems to greet The bearer of a precious freight, The Cadmus comes; and every wave Is glad the welcomed prow to lave. What are the ship and freight to me — I look for one that's on the sea. 'Welcome FAYETTE,' the million cries; From heart to heart the ardor flies, And drum, and hell, and cannon noise, In concord with a nation's voice, Is pealing through a grateful land, And all go with him. — Here I stand, Musing on one that's dear to me, Yet sailing on the dangerous sea. Be thy days happy here, FAYETTE— Long may they be so — long — but yet To me there's one that, dearest still, Clings to my heart and chains my will. His languid limbs and feverish head Are laid upon a sea-sick bed. Perhaps his thoughts are fixed on me, While tossed upon the mighty sea. I am alone. Let thousands throng The noisy, crowded streets along: Sweet be the beam of Beauty's gaze — Loud be the shout that Freemen raise — Let Patriots grasp thy noble hand, And welcome thee to Freedom's land;— Alas! I think of none but he Who sails across the foaming sea. So, when the moon is shedding light Upon the stars, and all is bright And beautiful; when every eye Looks upwards to the glorious sky; How have I turned my silent gaze To catch one little taper's blaze: — 'T was from a spot too dear to me, The home of him that's on the sea.