BLOW, wind, blow, Sing through yard and shroud; Pipe it shrilly and loud, Aloft as well as below; Sing in my sailor's ear The song I sing to you, "Come home, my sailor true, For Christmas that comes so near." Go, wind, go, Hurry his home-bound sail, Through gusts that are edged with hail, Through winter, and sleet, and snow; Song, in my sailor's ear, Your shrilling and moans shall be, For he knows they sing him to me And Christmas that comes so near. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CONTEMPLATION UPON FLOWERS by HENRY KING (1592-1669) ON A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT by ALEXANDER POPE THE GRAPE-VINE SWING by WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS TO MISS RIGBY, ON HER ATTENDANCE UPON HER MOTHER AT BUXTON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF MARY FLETCHER by BERNARD BARTON |