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THE STORM.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

I LAY me down by the sounding sea,

Whose billows tossed upon the shore,

And lapped the rounded pebbles o'er,

And ebbed and flowed continually.

A ship dashed through the waters blue, -

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Its mast was bending with the gale,

Unfurled was every inch of sail,

And the skipper's course was straight and true.

As he steered away from reef and sand

The sailors sang a jolly song,

And the gallant vessel leapt along,

Bound for a far-off, foreign land.

The wind it howled; night came apace;

The waves they hissed and lashed the beach;

I heard the startled sea-mews screech,

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