Ah, dear defect! that aye shall lift Us higher, not through craven shift Of fault on common frailty;--nay, But twofold hope to help with generous stay!

I shall be nearer, understood: More prized art thou than perfect good.

And since thou lov'st me, I shall grow Thy other self--thy Life, thy Joy, thy Woe!

THE FISHER OF THE CAPE.

At morn his bark like a bird Slips lightly oceanward-- Sail feathering smooth o'er the bay And beak that drinks the wild spray.

In his eyes beams cheerily A light like the sun's on the sea, As he watches the waning strand, Where the foam, like a waving hand Of one who mutely would tell Her love, flutters faintly, "Farewell."

But at night, when the winds arise And pipe to driving skies, And the moon peers, half afraid, Through the storm-cloud's ragged shade, He hears her voice in the blast That sighs about the mast, He sees her face in the clouds As he climbs the whistling shrouds; And a power nerves his hand, Shall bring the bark to land.

SAILOR'S SONG.

The sea goes up; the sky comes down.

Oh, can you spy the ancient town,-- The granite hills so hard and gray, That rib the land behind the bay?

O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings!

Fair winds, boys: send her home!

O ye ho!

Three years? Is it so long that we Have lived upon the lonely sea?

Oh, often I thought we'd see the town, When the sea went up, and the sky came down.

O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings!

Fair winds, boys: send her home!

O ye ho!

Even the winter winds would rouse A memory of my father's house; For round his windows and his door They made the same deep, mouthless roar.

O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings!

Fair winds, boys: send her home!

O ye ho!

And when the summer's breezes beat, Methought I saw the sunny street Where stood my Kate. Beneath her hand She gazed far out, far out from land.

O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings!

Fair winds, boys: send her home!

O ye ho!

Farthest away, I oftenest dreamed That I was with her. Then, it seemed A single stride the ocean wide Had bridged, and brought me to her side.

O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings!

Fair winds, boys: send her home.

O ye ho!

But though so near we're drawing, now, 'T is farther off----I know not how.

We sail and sail: we see no home.

Would we into the port were come!

O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings!

Fair winds, boys: send her home!

O ye ho!

At night, the same stars o'er the mast: The mast sways round--however fast We fly--still sways and swings around One scanty circle's starry bound.

O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings!

Fair winds, boys: send her home!

O ye ho!

Ah, many a month those stars have shone, And many a golden morn has flown, Since that so solemn, happy morn, When, I away, my babe was born.

O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings!

Fair winds, boys: send her home!

O ye ho!

And, though so near we're drawing, now, 'T is farther off--I know not how-- I would not aught amiss had come To babe or mother there, at home!

O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings!

Fair winds, boys: send her home!

O ye ho!

'T is but a seeming: swiftly rush The seas, beneath. I hear the crush Of foamy ridges 'gainst the prow.

Longing outspeeds the breeze, I know.

O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings!

Fair winds, boys: send her home!

O ye ho!

Patience, my mates! Though not this eve We cast our anchor, yet believe, If but the wind holds, short the run: We 'll sail in with to-morrow's sun.

O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings!

Fair winds, boys: send her home!

O ye ho!

JESSAMINE.

Here stands the great tree still, with broad, bent head, And wide arms grown aweary, yet outspread With their old blessing. But wan memory weaves Strange garlands now amongst the darkening leaves.

_And the moon hangs low in the elm_.

Beneath these glimmering arches Jessamine Walked with her lover long ago, and in This moon-made shade he questioned; and she spoke: Then on them both love's rarer radiance broke.

_And the moon hangs low in the elm_.

Sweet Jessamine we called her; for she shone Like blossoms that in sun and shade have grown, Gathering from each alike a perfect white, Whose rich bloom breaks opaque through darkest night.

_And the moon hangs low in the elm_.

And for this sweetness Walt, her lover, sought To win her; wooed her here, his heart full-fraught With fragrance of her being, and gained his plea.

So "We will wed," they said, "beneath this tree."

_And the moon hangs low in the elm_.

Was it unfaith, or faith more full to her, Made him, for fame and fortune longing, spur Into the world? Far from his home he sailed: And life paused; while she watched joy vanish, vailed.

_And the moon hangs low in the elm_.

Oh, better at the elm tree's sun-browned feet If he had been content to let life fleet Its wonted way!--there rearing his small house; Mowing and milking, lord of corn and cows!

_And the moon hangs low in the elm_.