POETRY.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1671, 28 June 1879, Page 3

POETRY.

THE SHIP BOY’S LETTER. Here’s a letter from Eobin, father, A letter from over the sea ; j was sure that the spark in the wick last night Meant there was one for mo ; And I laughed to see tho postman's face Look In at the dairy park, For you said it was so woman-like To put my trust in a spark. « Dear father and mother, and granny, I write on the breech of a gun, And think, as I sit at the porthole And look at the setting sun. Father’s chatting away beside you, While you ‘ holy-stone ’ the porch, Or are getting clean rigging ready Eor to-morrow’s cruise to church, »* You mustn’t he hard on the writing, For what with ropes and with tar, My fingers wcu’i: crook as they ought to, And spelling is harder far; And every minute a lurch comes And spoils tho look of my i’a ; And 1 blot ’em instead of dot ’em, And I can’t get my words of a size. “Toll Bessie I don’t forget her, But every Saturday night, When we’re talking of homo in tho twilight, Or our lamps are all alight, And I’m asked to tell the lass I love, I name sweet Bessie Green.” (0 father, think of his doing that, And the monkey scarce fifteen 1) “ And, granny, tho yarns yon spin all day, In the corner of the door, Won’t be half so long and as tough as mine, W hen I see you all ashore. You maybe won’t swallow flying-fish, And I’ll bring you one or two, And some Maltese lace for topsail gear, And a fan for you know who. “Then good-bye to each dear face at homo, Till I press it with my lips, While you pray each night for ‘ships at sea,’ And ‘ God-speed all sea ships !’ I smile as 1 rock in my hammock, Tho’ storms nay shriek and strain, for if feel when we pray for each other We re sure to meet again.”