The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were lovesick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes.
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Gracefully, gracefully glides our bark
On the bosom of Father Thames,
And before her bows the wavelets read more
Gracefully, gracefully glides our bark
On the bosom of Father Thames,
And before her bows the wavelets dark
Break into a thousand gems.
Build me straight. O worthy Master!
Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel
That shall laugh at all read more
Build me straight. O worthy Master!
Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel
That shall laugh at all disaster,
And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!
Learn of the little nautilus to sail,
Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
Learn of the little nautilus to sail,
Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
Like ships that have gone down at sea,
When heaven was all tranquillity.
Like ships that have gone down at sea,
When heaven was all tranquillity.
We lie and listen to the hissing waves,
Wherein our boat seems sharpening its keel,
Which on read more
We lie and listen to the hissing waves,
Wherein our boat seems sharpening its keel,
Which on the sea's face all unthankful graves
An arrowed scratch as with a tool of steel.
And the wind plays on those great sonorous harps, the shrouds and
masts of ships.
And the wind plays on those great sonorous harps, the shrouds and
masts of ships.
Her plates are scarred by the sun, dear lass,
And her ropes are taut with the dew,
read more
Her plates are scarred by the sun, dear lass,
And her ropes are taut with the dew,
For we're booming down on the old trail, our own trail, the out
trail,
We're sagging south on the Long Trail, the trail that is always
new.
For why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?
The air is cut read more
For why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?
The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind.
There's not a ship that sails the ocean,
But every climate, every soil,
Must bring its tribute, read more
There's not a ship that sails the ocean,
But every climate, every soil,
Must bring its tribute, great or small,
And help to build the wooden wall!
