From: The Dial, Vol. III, No. I (July 1842)
Author:
Published: E. P. Peabody 1842 Boston
OUR boat, to the waves go free; Blasts may rave—spread the sail,SEA SONG.
By the bending tide where the curled wave breaks,
Like the track of the wind on the white snow-flakes,
Away, away,—‘t is a path o’er the sea.
For our spirits can wrest the power from the wind,
And the gray clouds yield to the sunny mind,—
Fear not we the whirl of the gale.
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