@3Eight oars compel Our darting shell, Eight oar-blades flash the sun; The hard arms thrill, The deep lungs fill, Eight backs are bent as one. All silver lined We leave behind Each wave of somber hue. "Stroke! Stroke! Stroke! Stroke! Steady, Number Two!" The sea-gulls go, A drift of snow, On Hudson's lights and shades; The eagle swings On splendid wings Above the Palisades. Let Caution steer The shore anear, But Valor takes the tide. "Stroke! Stroke! Stroke! Stroke! Ease your forward slide!" A fair league still To old Cock Hill, Where Spuyten Duyvil roars. No time for play; Give 'way; give 'way! And bend the driven oars! When breezes blow Then feather low With level blades and true. "Stroke! Stroke! Stroke! Stroke! Steady! Pull it thr-o-o-ough!"@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEFORE THE RAIN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH CHANNEL FIRING by THOMAS HARDY COMMON DUST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON GOD'S ACRE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW STANZAS TO AN AFFECTIONATE AND PIOUS PARENT, ON THE DEATH OF HER CHILD by BERNARD BARTON FRANCESCA DA RIMINI by GEORGE HENRY BOKER |