The Loss Of The Roebuck Poem by Susanna Blamire

How oft by the lamp of the pale waning moon
Would Kitty steal out from the eye of the town;
On the beach as she stood, when the wild waves would roll,
Her eye shed a torrent just fresh from the soul;
And, as o'er the ocean the billows would stray,
Her sighs follow after, as moaning as they.

I saw, as the ship to the harbour drew near,
Hope redden her cheek--then it blanch'd with chill fear;
She wish'd to inquire of the whispering crew
If they'd spoke with the Roebuck, or aught of her knew;
For long in conjecture her fate had been toss'd,
Nor knew we for certain the Roebuck was lost.

I pitied her feelings, and saw what she'd ask,
For Innocence ever looks through a thin mask;
I stepp'd up to Jack Oakum--his sad head he shook,
And cast on sweet Kitty a side--glancing look:
``The Roebuck has founder'd--the crew are no more,--
Nor again shall Jack Bowling be welcom'd on shore!''

Sweet Kitty, suspecting, laid hold of my arm:
``O tell me,'' she cried, ``for my soul's in alarm;
Is she lost?''--I said nothing; whilst Jack gave a sigh,
Then down dropp'd the curtain that hung o'er her eye;
Fleeting life for a moment seem'd willing to stay;
Just flutter'd, and then fled for ever away.

So droops the pale lily surcharg'd with a shower,--
Sunk down as with sorrow so dies the sweet flower;
No sunbeam returning, no spring ever gay,
Can give back the soft breath once wafted away;
The eye--star once set never rises again,
Nor pilots one vessel more over the main.