(Lucy Maud Montgomery)






When the Fishing Boats Go Out


When the lucent skies of morning flush with dawning rose once more,
And waves of golden glory break adown the sunrise shore,
And oer the arch of heaven pied films of vapor float.
Theres joyance and theres freedom when the fishing boats go out. 

The wind is blowing freshly up from far, uncharted caves,
And sending sparkling kisses oer the brows of virgin waves,
While routed dawn-mists shiveroh, far and fast they flee,
Pierced by the shafts of sunrise athwart the merry sea! 

Behind us, fair, light-smitten hills in dappled splendor lie,
Before us the wide ocean runs to meet the limpid sky
Our hearts are full of poignant life, and care has fled afar
As sweeps the white-winged fishing fleet across the harbor bar. 

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The sea is calling to us in a blithesome voice and free,
Theres keenest rapture on its breast and boundless liberty!
Each man is master of his craft, its gleaming sails out-blown,
And far behind him on the shore a home he calls his own. 

Salt is the breath of ocean slopes and fresher blows the breeze,
And swifter still each bounding keel cuts through the combing seas,
Athwart our masts the shadows of the dipping sea-gulls float,
And all the water-worlds alive when the fishing boats go out.






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