Читать книгу Last Verses - Coolidge Susan - Страница 3

ON Calais sands the breakers roar

In fierce and foaming track;

The screaming sea-gulls dip and soar,

White seen against the black;

And shuddering wind and furling sail

Are making ready for the gale.

Ho, keeper of the Calais Light!

See that your lamps burn free;

For, if they should go out to-night,

There will be wrecks at sea.

Fill them and trim them with due care,

For there is tempest in the air.

“Go out? My lamps go out, you say?

What words are on your lips?

There, in the offing far away,

Are sailing countless ships,

Beyond my ken, beyond my sight,

But all are watching Calais Light.

“If but a single lamp should fail,

A single flame burn dim,

How could they ride the gathering gale,

Or justly steer and trim?

To right, to left, would equal be,

There are no road-marks in the sea.

“I should not hear their drowning cry,

Or see the ship go down,

And weeks and months might pass us by,

Ere came to Calais town

The word – ‘A ship was lost one night,

And all for want of Calais Light.’

“Here in my tower, my lamps in row,

I sit the long hours through;

There is no soul to mark or know

If I my duty do;

Yet oftentimes I seem to see

A world of eyes all bent on me!

“Go out! My lamps go out! alas!

It were a woeful day

If ever it should come to pass

That I must live to say,

A ship went down in storm and night,

Because there failed it Calais Light.”

Ah, Christian, in your watch-tower set,

Fill all your lamps and trim;

For though there seem no watchers, yet

Far in the darkness dim,

Where souls are tossing out of view,

A hundred eyes are fixed on you!