Homeward Bound

Homeward Bound.
240.6

There is no sorrow anywhere,
Or care, or pain The stinging hail
Beats on our faces like a luil, hail
Green waters curl above the rall.
And all the storm’s high trumpets blare-
Whistles the wind, and roars the sea,
And canvas bellows to be free,
Spars whine, planks creak- only smile,
For home our keel creeps mile on mile.

I bend above the whirling wheel!
With hands benumbed, but happy face.
Past us the wild seahorses race,
Leap up and seize each twanging brico,
Or slip beneath our lifting keel.
Dreaming, I see the scudding clouds,
And ice make in the forward shrouds,
And all the long waves topped with foam-
Yet heed them not; I’m going home.

Nightly our northern stars draw nigh,
The southern constellations sink.
Soon we shall nee along the brink
Of these cold sens Fires Island blink
Its welcome in the frosty sky.
Beyond that light, beyond the glow
Of our great city spread below.
Thire eyes now wait to welcome me
Back here my heart has longed to be.
-L. Frank Tooker