Songs of the sea , opus 10

Faintly as tolls the evening chime
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.
Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
We'll sing at St. Anne's our parting hymn.
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The Rapids are near and the daylight's past!
 
Why should we yet our sail unfurl?
There is not a breath the blue wave to curl;
But, when the wind blows off the shore,
Oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar.
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
The Rapids are near and the daylight's past!
 
Utawas' tide! this trembling moon
Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Saint of this green isle! hear our prayers,
Oh, grant us cool heavens and favouring airs.
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
The Rapids are near and the daylight's past!

In the summer season,
While yet the dawn was hoar,
I went plucking purple pansies,
Till my love should come to shore.

The fishing lights were gleaming,
They were keeping out at sea,
And “Come,” I sang, “my true love,
Come home, come home to me.”

But the mist fell thick at mooning,
And the white gulls rocked thereon,
And the young moon dropped from heaven,
And the fishing lights hid one by one.

All silently their glances
Slipped down the cruel sea,
And “Wait,” cried the night and the storm,
The wind and storm, “Wait till I come to thee.”

“Wait till I come to thee,
Wait till I come to thee.”

— This text is not currently
in the database but will be added
as soon as we obtain it. —