THE LURE OF THE SEA

When each spring returns, then my heart yearns
With an inwardly emotion,
To hear once more the surf on shore,
Down by th' Atlantic ocean.

To hear again the waves refrain
At dusk when day is dying,
Or the seagull's cry when waves roll high,
And o'er head the scud is flying.

Where fishing boats so proudly floats
After their spring's o'er-hauling,
So neat and trim from stern to stem
Ready for the season's calling.

And to watch each smak on a windard tack
Close reefed, and sea spray flying,
As they come about at the harbour's mouth
When the summer's day is dying.

Far from that shore where the breakers roar,
I hear not the sea's commotion,
But the wind and rain oft brings again
Echoes from the briny ocean.

February, 1950

SCENES AT SEA

Have you watched the foaming white caps
Rolling down an inland bay,
When a howling late nor'wester
Favours nothing in its way?
Have you seen these waters tranquil,
Mirrored 'neath the stars at night?
If you haven't, then believe me,
You have missed a thrilling sight.

When deep sea leviathans flounder,
And engaged in bitter strife;
Have you watched them as they battled,
Fighting for their very life?
Have you seen a towering ice berg
Glistening in the bright sunlight?
If you haven't, then believe me,
You have missed a thrilling sight.

Have you watched the graceful sea gulls
Riding on the ocean's crest,
And the playful mackerels leaping
Like acrobats at their best?
Have you seen a full rigged clipper
Drest out in her canvas white?
If you haven't, then believe me,
You have missed a thrilling sight.

Have you seen an Arctic ice flow
Crash against a bold head land?
Have you watched a loan sand piper
Hunting on some quiet strand?
Have you seen a sea bird's rookery,
And have watched them there in flight?
If you haven't, then believe me
You have missed a thrilling sight.

April 18, 1950

OLD SAILOR BILL

Old Bill he always loved the sea,
He was a sailor bold,
Until he had to stay on shore
As he was growing old.

He never had no family cares,
And never wooed a wife;
The sea was his ambition
And it shared his daily life.

He used to stroll down to the quay
Each day and sit around,
To watch the busy harbour tugs,
And ships all outward bound.

He loved the sea, he loved the ships,
And sitting there each day,
He fancied he could feel the splash
Of flying spume and spray.

He crossed the ocean many times,
And sailed the seven seas,
Oftimes at night in dreams he saw
White topsails in the breeze.

The young lads they would gather 'round,
And listen to his tales
Of far off lands where he had been,
And shipwrecks, storms and gales.

One day they found him very still
With head bowed on his chest,
Old Bill had ended his last voyage,
And reached his port of rest.

SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT

Ships are passing in the night,
While on shore, landlubbers sleep,
Far from land, and far from sight,
Tossing on the restless deep.
Weathering storms or pleasant breeze
With rich cargoes in their hold,
They're the nations life line these
'Twixt the New World and the Old.

Ships are passing in the night,
Homeward bound from o'er the foam;
From the Cape the beacon light
Flash it's message "Welcome home".
Home again, the mariner he
Mingles with his kith and kin,
And in dreams oft times he'll see
Towering white caps roll again.

Ships are passing in the night
As they round the harbour buoy,
And the flashing harbour light
Seems to hail them "Ship Ahoy".
Anchored on a moonlit bay
Where is heard the ocean's rote,
Ships their riding lights display
Like some midget town afloat.

Photo: Schooner DLT FRAMPTON. Built in Gin Cove By Edmund Frampton name after his sons Dan, Lindo & Ted

NEWFOUNDLAND

O Newfoundland, isle of the sea,
Thou art the gateway to the West;
May all they future destiny
Be free from all that cause unrest.

Around thy rugged sea girt isle,
Lashed by the ocean night and day,
Thy stalwart sons in honest toil
Braves dangers midst the spume and spray.

Thy landlocked harbours, lakes and bays
Lies mirrored 'neath the moonlit sky,
And summer sunsets flaming rays
Gleams on the bold Gafftopsails high.

Thou hast fair towns and paper mills,
With teeming rivers flowing free,
And hamlets nestled 'neath the hills
Where fishing boats puts out to sea.

They headlands bold the storm defies
When towering waves seethes with unrest,
But when at peace the ocean lies,
Seagulls adorn it's placid breast.

Land of the brave, their Island home,
May Providence they future plan,
Where'er they sons and daughters roam,
They'll ne'er forget thee, Newfoundland.

(The Gafftopsails are high mountain peaks)

Photo: Gin Cove, Newfoundland

DAVY JONES LOCKER

Out o'er the stormy deep
When seas roll high,
Wild waves in fury leap,
And sea gulls cry;

But 'neath the raging main
On the ocean's floor,
There peace and stillness reign
Forevermore.

LIFE'S VOYAGE

This life is like an ocean voyage
We're sailing every day,
And stormy seas and pleasant breeze
We encounter on the way.

At times our barque seems small and frail
When buffetted about
Amid each reef of unbelief,
Uncertainty and doubt.

Some due to sad misfortune
Lies shipwrecked on life's shore;
And some so fair just disappear,
Their span of life half o'er.

While others they are wafted on
Towards their port afar,
And at the sunset of their lives
They cross the harbour bar.

There's many dangers to be met
Before we reach that shore,
But safe at last with perils past
We'll sail life's seas no more.

Photo: This wheel house, from the schooner EMA FRAMPTON, was removed from the vessel after she went ashore on the Labrador. It is located in Cartwright, Newfoundland.

THE WINDJAMMERS

No more is seen the lofty ships
That were in days gone by,
As in port they rode with topsails stowed,
And yard arms swinging high.

With costly cargoes stowed below
Each ship would proudly bear
To foreign lands and far off strands,
Beyond our hemisphere.

Drest out in billowing canvas white,
And colours flying free,
With topsails set and scuppers wet,
Their's was a sight to see.

Each ship was manned by seamen bold,
Lighthearted, free and brave,
Where e'er they roamed it was their home
Upon the ocean wave.

No more is seen as days gone by
A full rigged brigantine,
Slip from her quay and sail away,
A roving ocean queen.

March, 1949

MUSINGS

Often in the silent watches
When around me all is still,
It is then my thoughts go drifting,
Far away o'er vale and hill.

Mem'ries that will ever linger
Often shares my company,
Midst the old familiar places
Where I once was young and free.

Friends long vanished, high hopes shattered
Both on land and ocean deep,
Love and laughter mixed with sadness
I encounter ere I sleep.

By the silvery moonlit water
Where is heard the lone loon's cry,
There in fancy long I linger
'Til another day draws nigh.

What at last my journey's ended,
And through weariness I sleep,
Then again in dreams I wander,
And another tryst keep.

May, 1948

BY STILL WATERS

Beside the deep still waters
The tall bulrushes grow,
And the placid breast and river's crest
Reflects the sunset glow;
A peaceful scene at eventide
When the sun is sinking low.

From amongst the bending willows
By the stream where fishes swim,
O'er the air there floats the cheery notes
Of a songbird's vesper hymn;
The gentle west wind sinks to rest
As the light of day grows dim.

And when the moon resplendent
Peeps o'er yon hilltop high,
The old grey owl on it's nightly prowl
Sits in a tree nearby,
A fox bays at the pale full moon
As the night hawk circles nigh.

And when the sun arises
The morning stars are gone,
The silent stream in the sunlit gleam
Glides gently on and on,
Through the hills and winding valleys
To'ards the sea, and the great beyond.

March, 1948

THE CHANGING SEA

I stood one day on a headland bold
When the storm was at it's height,
The angry waves they seethed and fought
Like demons arrayed in fight;
And as the seas came rolling in
To dash against the shore,
They filled the caves of the headlands
With a loud and thunderous roar.

Again I stood on that headland
When the ocean lay at rest,
The seagulls swam so gracefully
Upon it's placid breast;
And as I gazed out o'er the main
Where the sky and ocean meet,
I thought of the giant that lay so still
And peaceful beneath my feet.

Our life is like the changing sea,
Oftimes we are opprest,
When worries and perplexities
Disturb our human breast.
May we each one be wafted on
Toward our port afar,
"Til at the sunset of our lives
We cross the harbor bar.

THE DEITY

I believe in a Great Deity,
Maker and Finisher is He
Of earth and sea and starry heights,
And slumbers not by day or night.

Vast oceans lie within His hand,
And thunders roar at His command.
Sun, moon and hosts of stars so bright
He governs and directs their flight.

The cattle on a thousand hills
Are His, and all the sparkling rills.
Who hears the famished raven's cry,
And sees the sparrow fall and die.

None is too great or none too small
For Him to answer when they call.
From highest heaven to ocean's floor,
Both east and west, from shore to shore.

On every planet, globe and sphere,
He rules, invisible but near,
Creator of the human race,
And not confined to time or place.

This is my creed; A Deity,
Whose source is love and majesty.

March, 1949

THE GREAT DIVIDE

There is a land beyond our sight,
And often we may yearn
To catch a glimpse of that blest shore,
From whence none e'er return;
But when some day we launch away
To sail that rolling tide,
May we be safely wafted on
Across the Great Divide.

At time when evening shadows fall,
In fancy we may hear
Those voices calling from afar
Beyond our earthly sphere;
And as we sit and meditate
Beside life's changing tide,
We know our friends awaits us there
Beyond the Great Divide.

When life's short day draws to an end
Led by an evening star,
We'll launch our barque and sail away
Out o'er the harbour bar;
Our Pilot will be waiting there
To guide us o'er the tide,
And there contented we will dwell
Beyond the Great Divide.

June, 1948

MEMORIES

If time would turn back for a season,
For a year in the past that are gone,
I would romp once again in my boyhood,
And the days would speed merrily along.

When the catkins are blowing in springtime,
And the robin comes bobbin' along,
As the song sparrow sings in the tree top
With nothing to mar it's sweet song.

I'd hear once again the waves murmur,
And sniff the salt tang of the sea,
I'd watch the white sails in the sunset
And the sea gulls so graceful and free.

There would be the cool breezes at even,
I would hear the loon's cry in the night,
As it calls to it's mate o'er the water
Lit up by the moon's silvery light.

I'd wade once again in sea water,
And dig my bare toes in the sand,
And hunt the nest of the sand piper,
Where I'd gather sea shells in the strand.

These days they are gone past forever,
But a mem'rie they ever will be,
There a youngster with never a worry,
Once dwelt by the side of the sea.

THE CREATOR

Creator of the starry heights,
And ocean depth's below,
How mighty are Thy wondrous works
As all creation know.

Thy lofty snow-capped mountains stand
Like sentinels in their might,
They glistens in the morning sun,
And sun sets glow at night.

Ten thousand times ten thousand stars
Lights up the Milky Way,
The sun and moon their course pursues
As night replaces day.

Vast ocean's restless rolling seas
Harrass the ocean's shore,
And vivid lightnings pierce the skies
As thunders loudly roar.

The rainbow's arch across the sky
Sets forth Thy covenant plain,
Summer and winter, day and night
Shall be while earth remain.

February, 1949

A FISHERMAN'S PRAYER

Great Pilot of the restless sea
By Thee were all our fathers led,
Grant me success from day to day,
That I may earn my daily bread.

'Twas in a little fishing boat
Close by the shores of Galilee,
Where Thou once sat and taught the folk,
And humble fishermen like me.

And on the Galilean sea
When winds blew strong and waves raged high,
Thou hear Thy faint disciples call,
And answered "Fear not, it is I."

Protect me through the gloomy night
When skies above are overcast,
My little boat it seems so small
Upon Thine ocean wide and vast.

Strengthen my will when toil seems vain,
Uphold me when my courage fail,
And may I hear they still small voice
Both in the calm and raging gale.

And when at last my voyage is done,
When my last fishing trip is o'er,
Then master as I hear the strand
May I behold thee on the shore.

Then pilot me safe home at last
Into that Port of quiet rest,
Where I shall find safe anchorage
From every storm that cause unrest.

September, 1945

DOWN BY THE SEA

It was a dark and stormy night,
The rolling waves beat on the shore;
A cottage stood beside the sea,
And salt sea spray swept by the door.

A light shone in the window bright,
'Though long had passed the hour for sleep,
A fisher's wife her vigil kept
While he were on the stormy deep.

And in his cot her baby lay
Asleep, a chubby little lad,
He were too young to know the cares
And anxious hours his mother had.

The mother kept her vigil when
The storms blew wild and waves ran high,
And prayed that God would keep him safe,
The father of her darling boy.

In many a home down by the sea
Are anxious wives and mothers too,
Great pilot of the restless deep,
Protect their kin, and bring them through.

October, 1947