The Figure-Head

The Charles-and-Emma seaward sped, (Named from the carven pair at prow,) He so smart, and a curly head, She tricked forth as a bride knows how: Pretty stem for the port, I trow!

But iron-rust and alum-spray And chafing gear, and sun and dew Vexed this lad and lassie gay, Tears in their eyes, salt tears nor few; And the hug relaxed with the failing glue.

But came in end a dismal night, With creaking beams and ribs that groan, A black lee-shore and waters white: Dropped on the reef, the pair lie prone: O, the breakers dance, but the winds they moan!

THE GOOD CRAFT SNOW BIRD

Strenuous need that head-wind be From purposed voyage that drives at last The ship, sharp-braced and dogged still, Beating up against the blast.

Brigs that figs for market gather, Homeward-bound upon the stretch, Encounter oft this uglier weather Yet in end their port they fetch.

Mark yon craft from sunny Smyrna Glazed with ice in Boston Bay; Out they toss the fig-drums cheerly, Livelier for the frosty ray.

What if sleet off-shore assailed her, What though ice yet plate her yards; In wintry port not less she renders Summer’s gift with warm regards!

And, look, the underwriters’ man, Timely, when the stevedore’s done, Puts on his specs to pry and scan, And sets her down—A, No. 1.

Bravo, master! Bravo, brig! For slanting snows out of the West Never the Snow-Bird cares one fig; And foul winds steady her, though a pest.