And when the dreary watches
Of storm and darkness passed,
Just as the wreck lurched under,
All souls were saved at last.
Sail on, _Three Bells_, forever,
In grateful memory sail!
Ring on, _Three Bells_ of rescue,
Above the wave and gale!
Type of the Love eternal,
Repeat the Master's cry,
As tossing through our darkness
The lights of God draw nigh!
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
SHERIDAN'S RIDE.
There never was a boy who did not like "Sheridan's Ride," by T.
Buchanan Read (1822-72). The swing and gallop in it take every boy off
from his feet. The children never teach this poem to me, because they
love to learn it at first sight. It is easily memorised.
Up from the South at break of day,
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,
The affrighted air with a shudder bore,
Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door,
The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar,
Telling the battle was on once more,
And Sheridan twenty miles away.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98