Chapter XI: In Harbor

My little boat is in a bay,
It swings with gentle motion,
And there I lie and watch all day
The far-off, noisy ocean.

The ships go up, the ships go down,
And never see me spying.
They are the pride and fear of town--
Sails wide and colors flying.

They are so strong, they are so tall,
They fear no storm, no sorrow;
With brave eyes to the sun, they all
Set sail for some to-morrow.

Sometimes I long to range and roam,
My harbor life bewailing,
But little boats must bide at home,
To gayly speed the sailing.