Behold The Hour, The Boat Arrive Poem
Behold the hour, the boat arrive;
Thou goest, the darling of my heart;
Sever’d from thee, can I survive,
But Fate has will’d and we must part.
I’ll often greet the surging swell,
Yon distant Isle will often hail:
E’en here I took the last farewell;
There, latest mark’d her vanish’d sail.
Along the solitary shore,
While flitting sea-fowl round me cry,
Across the rolling, dashing roar,
I’ll westward turn my wistful eye:
Happy thou Indian grove, I’ll say,
Where now my Nancy’s path may be!
While thro’ thy sweets she loves to stray,
O tell me, does she muse on me!