Arthur Graves Canfield

 
 
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MY FAITH.

 
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BE not an anchor, O my faith to lie 
      On ocean's slimy floor, dim fathoms deep, 
      Where dead, forgotten things forever Sleep, 
And tumult of the waves comes never nigh, 
And e'en beyond the glimpse of Day's great eye^__
      To cling and clutch the ooze, thy task to keep 
      My boat at rest, in front the self-same sweep 
Of well-known coast, o'erhead the self. same sky. 
 
Nay, rather when the mighty winds are free, 
  Be thou the needle, loyal to thy North, 
      To bid my bark the utmost isles explore, 
      Better gO down amid the tempest's roar 
  Than rot in land locked bays, and put not forth 
At hearing of the loud entreating sea 
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