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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420874" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Voyage of the Jettie</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A shallow stream, from fountains<br>Deep in the Sandwich mountains,<br>Ran lake ward Bearcamp River;<br>And, between its flood-torn shores,<br>Sped by sail or urged by oars<br>No keel had vexed it ever.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alone the dead trees yielding<br>To the dull axe Time is wielding,<br>The shy mink and the otter,<br>And golden leaves and red,<br>By countless autumns shed,<br>Had floated down its water.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From the gray rocks of Cape Ann,<br>Came a skilled seafaring man,<br>With his dory, to the right place;<br>Over hill and plain he brought her,<br>Where the boatless Beareamp water<br>Comes winding down from White-Face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Quoth the skipper: “Ere she floats forth;<br>I’m sure my pretty boat’s worth,<br>At least, a name as pretty.”<br>On her painted side he wrote it,<br>And the flag that o’er her floated<br>Bore aloft the name of Jettie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On a radiant morn of summer,<br>Elder guest and latest comer<br>Saw her wed the Bearcamp water;<br>Heard the name the skipper gave her,<br>And the answer to the favor<br>From the Bay State’s graceful daughter.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then, a singer, richly gifted,<br>Her charmed voice uplifted;<br>And the wood-thrush and song-sparrow<br>Listened, dumb with envious pain,<br>To the clear and sweet refrain<br>Whose notes they could not borrow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then the skipper plied his oar,<br>And from off the shelving shore,<br>Glided out the strange explorer;<br>Floating on, she knew not whither,—<br>The tawny sands beneath her,<br>The great hills watching o’er her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On, where the stream flows quiet<br>As the meadows’ margins by it,<br>Or widens out to borrow a<br>New life from that wild water,<br>The mountain giant’s daughter,<br>The pine-besung Chocorua.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or, mid the tangling cumber<br>And pack of mountain lumber<br>That spring floods downward force,<br>Over sunken snag, and bar<br>Where the grating shallows are,<br>The good boat held her course.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Under the pine-dark highlands,<br>Around the vine-hung islands,<br>She ploughed her crooked furrow<br>And her rippling and her lurches<br>Scared the river eels and perches,<br>And the musk-rat in his burrow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Every sober clam below her,<br>Every sage and grave pearl-grower,<br>Shut his rusty valves the tighter;<br>Crow called to crow complaining,<br>And old tortoises sat craning<br>Their leathern necks to sight her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So, to where the still lake glasses<br>The misty mountain masses<br>Rising dim and distant northward,<br>And, with faint-drawn shadow pictures,<br>Low shores, and dead pine spectres,<br>Blends the skyward and the earthward,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On she glided, overladen,<br>With merry man and maiden<br>Sending back their song and laughter,—<br>While, perchance, a phantom crew,<br>In a ghostly birch canoe,<br>Paddled dumb and swiftly after!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the bear on Ossipee<br>Climbed the topmost crag to see<br>The strange thing drifting under;<br>And, through the haze of August,<br>Passaconaway and Paugus<br>Looked down in sleepy wonder.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All the pines that o’er her hung<br>In mimic sea-tones sung<br>The song familiar to her;<br>And the maples leaned to screen her,<br>And the meadow-grass seemed greener,<br>And the breeze more soft to woo her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The lone stream mystery-haunted,<br>To her the freedom granted<br>To scan its every feature,<br>Till new and old were blended,<br>And round them both extended<br>The loving arms of Nature.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of these hills the little vessel<br>Henceforth is part and parcel;<br>And on Bearcamp shall her log<br>Be kept, as if by George’s<br>Or Grand Menan, the surges<br>Tossed her skipper through the fog.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I, who, half in sadness,<br>Recall the morning gladness<br>Of life, at evening time,<br>By chance, onlooking idly,<br>Apart from all so widely,<br>Have set her voyage to rhyme.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dies now the gay persistence<br>Of song and laugh, in distance;<br>Alone with me remaining<br>The stream, the quiet meadow,<br>The hills in shine and shadow,<br>The sombre pines complaining.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, musing here, I dream<br>Of voyagers on a stream<br>From whence is no returning,<br>Under sealed orders going,<br>Looking forward little knowing,<br>Looking back with idle yearning.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I pray that every venture<br>The port of peace may enter,<br>That, safe from snag and fall<br>And siren-haunted islet,<br>And rock, the Unseen Pilot<br>May guide us one and all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420874" data-title="Voyage of the Jettie de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="A shallow stream, from fountains
Deep in the Sandwich mountains,
Ran lake ward Bearcamp River;
And, between its flood-torn shores,
Sped by sail or urged by oars
No keel had vexed it ever.

Alone the dead trees yielding
To the dull axe Time is wiel..."></div>
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