Alec Yeaton's Son by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

GLOUCESTER, AUGUST, 1720.

The wind it wailed, the wind it moaned,

And the white caps flecked the sea;

"An' I would to God," the skipper groaned,

"I had not my boy with me!"

Snug in the stern-sheets, little John

Laughed as the scud swept by;

But the skipper's sunburnt cheek grew wan

As he watched the wicked sky.

"Would he were at his mother's side!"

And the skipper's eyes were dim.

"Good Lord in heaven, if ill betide,

What would become of him!

"For me--my muscles are as steel,

For me let hap what may;

I might make shift upon the keel

Until the break o' day.

"But he, he is so weak and small,

So young, scarce learned to stand--

O pitying Father of us all,