Not high nor full enough to show things clear, The half moon hung above the mountain-lines - But, glancing on the waters, kindled there A lamp of gold beneath the unseen vines; The night was fair, but, as our port we neared, We sighed to lose the boatman and his mate, Between whose patient faces we had sate, The old man rowing, while his daughter steered; 'Father', she oft would say in accents mild, Whene'er she asked advice, or craved reply To some brief question, while, with loving eye, He smiled and nodded to his wistful child, Over his close-joined hands and labouring oar - 'Twas sad to think we ne'er might see them more! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ULTIMA THULE: THE CHAMBER OVER THE GATE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 11 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI A LUNCHEON (THOMAS HARDY ENTERTAINS THE PRINCE OF WALES) by HENRY MAXIMILIAN BEERBOHM THE WINNING OF POMONA by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |