Sonnet. (O That Religion…) Poem by Susan Evance

O THAT religion in that breast did dwell! -
See how he leans upon the vessel's side,
And gloomily surveys the surgy tide.
Could you the meaning of that aspect tell,
Could you behold the heart that bosom hides,
Its passions tossing like the billows wild,
Its wishes by no soothing hope beguil'd,
But which impatience ever restless guides;
Ah did each thought perplex'd- each prospect dark-
Each feeling of despair now meet your sight,
You'd say that Man, "poor helpless driving bark! "
Needed a pilot to direct him right
On life's tumultuous waves- and waft him o'er
To some more shelter'd and more peaceful shore.