A gallery of famous English and American poets . old a distant sailRoughly beaten by the gale Till it vanishes from sight; 460 SAXE. And I ponder on the strifeOf our fleeting human hfe,—Looking out into the night. Looking out into the night,I bethink me of the restAnd the rapture of the blest Li the land where all is light;Sitting on the heavenly shore,Weeping never,—nevermoreLooking out into the night! TO A CLAM. Dum tacent Inglorious friend! most confident I am Thy life is one of very little ease ; Albeit men mock thee with their similesAnd prate of being happy as a clam!What thoug
A gallery of famous English and American poets . old a distant sailRoughly beaten by the gale Till it vanishes from sight; 460 SAXE. And I ponder on the strifeOf our fleeting human hfe,—Looking out into the night. Looking out into the night,I bethink me of the restAnd the rapture of the blest Li the land where all is light;Sitting on the heavenly shore,Weeping never,—nevermoreLooking out into the night! TO A CLAM. Dum tacent Inglorious friend! most confident I am Thy life is one of very little ease ; Albeit men mock thee with their similesAnd prate of being happy as a clam!What though thy shell protects thy fragile head From the sharp bailiffs of the briny sea? Thy valves are, sure, no safety-valves to rakes are free to desecrate thy bear the© off,—as foemen take their spoil,— Far from thy fi-iends and family to roam; Forced, like a Hessian, from thy native meet destruction in a foreign broil ! Though thou art tender, yet thy humble bard Declares, 0 clam ! thy case is shocking hard! JIM BLUDSO, OF THE PRAIRIE BELLE. Wall, no ! I cant tell whar he lives, Becase he dont live, you see ;Leastways, hes got out of the habit Of livin like you and have you been for the last three year That you havent heard folks tellHow Jimmy Bludso passed in his checks The night of the Prairie. Belle ? He werent no saint,—them engineersIs all pretty much alike,— 116 161 462 HAY. One wife in jSFatcliez-under-the-Hill And another one Lere in Pike ;A keerless man in his talk was Jim, And an awkward hand in a row,—?But he never flunked, and he never lied,— I reckon he never knowed how. And this was all the religion he had,—• To treat his engine well;Never be passed on the river; To mind the pilots bell;And if ever the Prairie Belle took fire,— A thousand times he sworeHed hold her nozzle agin the bank Till the last soul got ashore. All boats has their day on the Mississip, And her day come at last,—The Movastar was a b
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksu, booksubjectenglishpoetry
