IT was off the cliffs of Scituate, In old Massachusetts Bay, We took a stiff northeaster, About the break of day; Lord! how it howled and whistled Through the ratlines and the shrouds, As the icy snow dashed pelting Through the scud of lowering clouds! Outspoke then our bold captain, -- "She fairly drifts astern; Against this gale no Boston Can the good barque make, this turn; To beach her were but madness, Where the wild surf runs so high, -- Under our lee lies Scituate, And there we can but try." Then "Hard up!" cried the captain, -- Like a bird she bore away, The blast just struck her quarter, And she flew across the bay; Before us broke the dreaded bar, And by the helmsman stood Our captain, as the brave barque plunged Into the foam-tossed flood. One plunge! the strong wave lifted her, -- Aghast stood all the crew! Again, -- she rose upon the surge, -- And it brought her safely through. Now, God bless Scituate Harbor, And be blessed forevermore, Who saved us from the sea's cold clasp, By that wild, treacherous shore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FAREWELL TO HIS WIFE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON ONE LIFE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE NEW COLOSSUS by EMMA LAZARUS MUTABILITY (2) by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY SOME EYES CONDEMN by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS CAROLINA [JANUARY, 1865] by HENRY TIMROD |