On The Sound

At eve from the Pilgrim's lofty deck,
As we cleave through the waveless Sound,
I gaze on a hamlet's spire a speck
Far over the land's dim bound.
I fancy I hear its silvery bell
As from out of the sunset's soul
Sound over the opaline sea to tell
Of a calm life's joy-lit goal.
A yacht with its canvas and masts aglow
In crimson and gold of the west
Points fair for the shore where the bell, I know,
Is singing its song of rest.
Fair bark reaching for home and cheer,
With ripples aflame at thy prow,
I would that my haven of life were near
And lovely as thine is now!
But, lo! a fisher with shadowed sails
Steers into the north and the night,
Where a dark cloud over the water trails
From the sky's still starless height.
O brave bark driving on duty's track
Where it takes thee, shine or shade,
With thee goes my heart neath the night and rack
And the storm for our work-world made!