Hour after hour crept slowly,
Yet on the heaving swells

Tossed up and down the ship-lights,-
The lights of the Three Bells.

And ship to ship made signals;
Man answered back to man;
While oft, to cheer and hearten,
The Three Bells nearer ran.

And the captain from her taffrail
Sent down his hopeful cry;
"Take heart! hold on!" he shouted,
"The Three Bells shall stand by!"

All night across the waters

The tossing lights shone clear;
All night from reeling taffrail
The Three Bells sent her cheer.

And when the dreary watches
Of storm and darkness passed,
Just as the wreck lurched under,
All souls were saved at last.

Sail on, Three Bells, forever,
In grateful memory sail!
Ring on, Three Bells of rescue,
Above the wave and gale!

Type of the Love eternal,
Repeat the Master's cry,

As tossing through our darkness
The lights of God draw nigh!

John G. Whittier.

THE LAUNCHING OF THE SHIP

"Build me straight, O worthy Master! Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel,

That shall laugh at all disaster,

And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!"

Day by day the vessel grew,

With timbers fashioned strong and true,
Stemson and keelson and sternson knee,
Till, framed with perfect symmetry,
A skeleton ship rose up to view!
And around the bows and along the side
The heavy hammers and mallets plied,
Till after many a week, at length,
Wonderful for form and strength,
Sublime in its enormous bulk,

Loomed aloft the shadowy hulk!

And around it columns of smoke, upwreathing, Rose from the boiling, bubbling, seething Caldron, that glowed,

And overflowed

With the black tar, heated for the sheathing. And amid the clamors

Of clattering hammers,

He who listened heard now and then
The song of the Master and his men:

"Build me straight, O worthy Master, Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel, That shall laugh at all disaster,

And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!"

All is finished! and at length

Has come the bridal day

Of beauty and of strength.

To-day the vessel shall be launched!

With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched,

And o'er the bay,

Slowly, in all his splendors dight,

The great Sun rises to behold the sight.

The Ocean old,

Centuries old,

Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled,

Paces restless to and fro,

Up and down the sands of gold.

His beating heart is not at rest;
And far and wide,

With ceaseless flow,

His beard of snow

Heaves with the heaving of his breast.

He waits impatient for his bride.
There she stands,

With her foot upon the sands!

Decked with flags and streamers gay,

In honor of her marriage day,

Her snow-white signals, fluttering, blending,

Round her like a veil descending,

Ready to be

The bride of the gray old Sea.

Then the Master,

With a gesture of command,

Waved his hand:

And at the word,

Loud and sudden there was heard,

All around them and below,

The sound of hammers, blow on blow,
Knocking away the shores and spurs.
And see! she stirs!

She starts- - she moves

she seems to feel

The thrill of life along her keel,

And, spurning with her foot the ground,
With one exulting, joyous bound,

She leaps into the ocean's arms!

And lo! from the assembled crowd

There rose a shout, prolonged and loud,
That to the ocean seemed to say,

"Take her, O bridegroom, old and gray; Take her to thy protecting arms,

With all her youth and all her charms!"
How beautiful she is! how fair

She lies within those arms, that press
Her form with many a soft caress

Of tenderness and watchful care!
Sail forth into the sea, O, ship!
Through wind and wave, right onward steer!
The moistened eye, the trembling lip,
Are not the signs of doubt or fear.

Sail forth into the sea of life,
Oh, gentle, loving, trusting wife,
And safe from all adversity,
Upon the bosom of that sea
Thy comings and thy goings be!
For gentleness, and love, and trust,
Prevail o'er angry wave and gust;
And in the wreck of noble lives
Something immortal still survives!

Thou, too, sail on, O ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Humanity, with all its fears,

With all its hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
We know what Master laid thy keel,
What workman wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge, and what a heat,

Were shaped the anchors of thy hope.

Fear not each sudden sound and shock;
'Tis of the wave, and not the rock;
'Tis but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale;
In spite of rock and tempest roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee;

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,

Are all with thee- are all with thee!

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

BETSY AND I ARE OUT

Draw up the papers, lawyer, and make 'em good and stout,
For things at home are cross-ways, and Betsy and I are out,—
We who have worked together so long as man and wife
Must pull in single harness the rest of our natʼral life.

"What is the matter," says you? I swan! it's hard to tell!
Most of the years behind us we've passed by very well;
I have no other woman she has no other man;
Only we've lived together as long as ever we can.

So I have talked with Betsy, and Betsy has talked with me;
And we've agreed together that we can never agree;
Not that we've catched each other in any terrible crime;
We've been a gatherin' this for years, a little at a time.

There was a stock of temper we both had, for a start;
Although we ne'er suspected 't would take us two apart;
I had my various failings, bred in the flesh and bone,
And Betsy, like all good women, had a temper of her own.

The first thing, I remember, whereon we disagreed,

Was somethin' concerning heaven ·
We arg'ed the thing at breakfast

a difference in our creed; we arg'ed the thing at tea And the more we arg'ed the question, the more we could n't agree.

And the next that I remember was when we lost a cow;

She had kicked the bucket, for certain the question was only

How?

-

I held my opinion, and Betsy another had;

And when we were done a talkin', we both of us was mad.

And the next that I remember, it started in a joke;
But for full a week it lasted and neither of us spoke.
And the next was when I fretted because she broke a bowl;
And she said I was mean and stingy, and had n't any soul.
And so the thing kept workin', and all the self-same way;
Always somethin' to arg'e and somethin' sharp to say,-
And down on us came the neighbors, a couple o' dozen strong,
And lent their kindest sarvice to help the thing along.