There's a piping wind from a sunrise shore <br />Blowing over a silver sea, <br />There's a joyous voice in the lapsing tide <br />That calls enticingly; <br />The mist of dawn has taken flight <br />To the dim horizon's bound, <br />And with wide sails set and eager hearts <br />We're off to the fishing ground. <br /> <br />Ho, comrades mine, how that brave wind sings <br />Like a great sea-harp afar! <br />We whistle its wild notes back to it <br />As we cross the harbor bar. <br />Behind us there are the homes we love <br />And hearts that are fond and true, <br />And before us beckons a strong young day <br />On leagues of glorious blue. <br /> <br />Comrades, a song as the fleet goes out, <br />A song of the orient sea! <br />We are the heirs of its tingling strife, <br />Its courage and liberty. <br />Sing as the white sails cream and fill, <br />And the foam in our wake is long, <br />Sing till the headlands black and grim <br />Echo us back our song! <br /> <br />Oh, 'tis a glad and heartsome thing <br />To wake ere the night be done <br />And steer the course that our fathers steered <br />In the path of the rising sun. <br />The wind and welkin and wave are ours <br />Wherever our bourne is found, <br />And we envy no landsman his dream and sleep <br />When we're off to the fishing ground.<br /><br />Lucy Maud Montgomery<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/off-to-the-fishing-ground/
