To him, who, many a night upon the main,
At mid-watch, from the bounding vessel's side,
Shivering, has listened to the rocking tide,
Oh, how delightful smile thy views again,
Fair Land! the sheltered hut, and far-seen mill
That safe sails round and round; the tripping rill
That o'er the gray sand glitters; the clear sky,
Beneath whose blue vault shines the village tower,
That high elms, swaying in the wind, embower;
And hedge-rows, where the small birds' melody
Solace the lithe and loitering peasant lad!
O Stranger! is thy pausing fancy sad
At thought of many evils which do press
On wide humanity!--Look up; address
The GOD who made the world; but let thy heart
Be thankful, though some heavy thoughts have part,
That, sheltered from the human storms' career,
Thou meetest innocence and quiet here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, I imagine a familiar sight on land such as a cottage or a light tower or a cliff gives great peace to the homeward bound sailor