Thou comest, much wept for; such a breeze Compell'd thy canvas, and my prayer Was as the whisper of an air To breathe thee over lonely seas. For I in spirit saw thee move Thro' circles of the bounding sky, Week after week; the days go by; Come quick, thou bringest all I love. Henceforth, wherever thou mayst roam, My blessing, like a line of light, Is on the waters day and night, And like a beacon guards thee home. So may whatever tempest mars Mid-ocean spare thee, sacred bark, And balmy drops in summer dark Slide from the bosom of the stars; So kind an office hath been done, Such precious relics brought by thee, The dust of him I shall not see Till all my widow'd race be run. |