[38]
]And to-night, dear Eileen! in our cockle-shell ship,
To our star that is constant and true,
We will float on the stream where the willow-boughs dip
’Neath a sky that is wondrously blue,
And a myriad eyes twinkle through—
All for you!
And for me, while I live loving you!
Let earnest men answer the crack of the whip,
With their shibbolethed banners aflap—
On the fur-covered planks of our cockle-shell ship,