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LESSON 7
O THE white sea-gull, the wild sea-gull,
A joyful bird is he,
As he lies like a cradled thing at rest
In the arms of a sunny sea!
The little waves rock to and fro,
And the white gull lies asleep,
As the flsher’s bark, with breeze and tide,
Goes merrily over the deep.
The ship, with her fair sails set, goes by,
And her people stand to note
How the sea-gull sits on the rocking waves,
As if in an anchored boat.
The sea is fresh, the sea is fair,
And the sky calm over head,
And the sea-gull lies on the deep deep sea,
Like a king in his royal bed!
O the white sea-gull, the bold sea-gull,
A joyful bird is he,
Throned, like a king, in calm repose,
On the breast of the heaving sea!
The waves leap up, the wild wind blows,
And the gulls together crowd,
And wheel about, and madly scream
To the deep sea roaring loud:
And let the sea roar ever so loud,
And the wind pipe ever so high,
With a wilder joy the bold sea-gull
Sendeth forth a wilder cry; —
For the sea-gull he is a daring bird,
And he loves with the storm to sail;
To ride in the strength of the billowy
sea,
And to breast the driving gale!
The little boat she is tossed about
Like a sea-weed, to and fro;
The tall ship reels like a drunken man,
As the gusty
tempests blow;
But the sea-gull laughs at the fear of man,
And sails, in a wild delight,
On the torn-up breast of the night-black sea,
Like a foam-cloud,
calm and white.
The waves may rage, and the winds may roar,
But he fears not wreck, nor need;
For he rides the sea, in its stormy strength,
As a strong man rides his steed.
O the white sea-gull, the bold sea-gull,
He makes on the shore his nest,
And he tries what the inland flelds may be;
But he loveth the sea the best!
And away from land, a thousand leagues,
He goes ’mid surging
foam; —
What matter to him is land or shore,
For the sea is his truest home!
And away to the North among ice-rocks stern,
And amid the frozen snow,
To a sea that is lone and desolate,
Will the wanton
sea-gull go.
For he careth not for the winter wild,
Nor those desert regions chill;
In the midst of the cold, as on calm blue seas,
The sea-gull hath his will!
And the dead whale lies on the northern shores,
And the seal, and the sea-horse grim;
And the death of the great sea-creatures makes
A full merry feast for him.
O the wild sea-gull, the bold sea-gull,
As he screams in his wheeling flight,
As he sits on the waves in storm or calm,
All cometh to him aright!
All cometh to him as he liketh best,
Nor any his will gainsay!
And he rides on the waves like a bold young king
That was crowned but yesterday!
— MARY HOWITT
What do the people in the ship stand to note? What is the sea-gull like, when the sea and sky are calm? What do the gulls do when the wild wind blows? Where do they make their nests? What food do they find in the cold North?
mer´-ri-ly bil´-low-y des´-o-late north´-ern
an´-chored drun´-ken wan´-ton gain-say´
re-pose´ thou´-sand re´-gions yes´-ter-day
These web-footed marine birds are dispersed over every quarter of the world, and in some parts are met with at certain seasons in vast multitudes.
The species which frequents the Arctic regions is the ivory gull; so called from its white plumage, which rivals in pureness of colour new-fallen snow.