SIXTH YEAR
The Northern Star
(A Tynemouth Ship)
The "Northern Star"
Sail'd over the bar
Bound to the Baltic Sea;
In the morning gray
She stretch'd away:—
'Twas a weary day to me!
For many an hour
In sleet and shower
By the lighthouse rock I stray;
And watch till dark
For the wingèd bark
Of him that is far away.
The castle's bound
I wander round,
Amidst the grassy graves:
But all I hear
Is the north-wind drear,
And all I see are the waves.
The "Northern Star"
Is set afar!
Set in the Baltic Sea:
And the waves have spread
The sandy bed
That holds my Love from me.
—Unknown.
The First Swallow
The gorse is yellow on the heath;
The banks of speedwell flowers are gay;
The oaks are budding, and beneath,
The hawthorn soon will bear the wreath,
The silver wreath of May.
The welcome guest of settled spring,
The swallow, too, is come at last
Just at sunset, when thrushes sing,
I saw her dash with rapid wing,
And hail'd her as she past.
Come, summer visitant, attach
To my reed roof your nest of clay,
And let my ear your music catch,
Low twittering underneath the thatch,
At the gray dawn of day.
—Charlotte Smith.