Kids Poems » The Mariner’s Orphan

That cold, faithless moon looking down on the wave !
How dark grows my heart with her beaming!
And yonder she smiles on the new-covered grave,
While tears drown my sight in their streaming.

For there lies my father, down, down in the deep,
O'erwhelmed by the black, heavy billow !
And now have they borne off my mother, to sleep
Where damp clods of earth are her pillow.

How oft did she kneel, when that moon from above,
Hung mild o'er a calm, sparkling ocean ;
And lift her sweet voice in thanksgiving and love,
To Him of her evening devotion !

And, when into clouds all their brightness was cast,
With looks full of woe and imploring.
She bowed like a reed, at the rush of the blast ;
And prayed while the tempest was roaring.

Then, pale at the noise of the storm and the sea,
While tears rolled, as crystal-drops shining,
She threw her fond arms round my brother and me,
Her trembling to stay by their twining.

But, oh ! when they told her the whole fatal talc,
By silence her anguish was spoken;
She heard the torn bark had gone down, in the gale ;
Then sunk ! for her heart-strings were broken.

And since, when I see the bright moon beaming clear,
With stars gathered thickly around her,
I think of that night, when no ray would appear,
To light the frail bark that must founder !

The sound of the waves, as they die on the shore,
It lills me with sadness and sighing :
To me thev bring back a dear father no more -
They show me a mother, when dying.


International Short Story Writing Contest for School Children