THE OSPREY 



Soon as the sun, great ruler of the year, 

 Bends to our northern clime his bright career, 

 And from the caves of ocean calls from sleep 

 The finny shoals and myriads of the deep ; 

 When freezing tempests back to Greenland ride, 

 And day and night the equal hours divide; 

 True to the season, o'er our sea-beat shore. 

 The sailing osprey high is seen to soar, 

 With broad unmoving wing, and circling slow 

 Marks each loose straggler in the deep below; 

 Sweeps down like lightning ! plunges with a roar 1 

 And bears his struggling victim to the shore. 

 The long-housed fisherman beholds with joy. 

 The well known signals of his rough employ; 

 And as he bears his nets and oars along, 

 Thus hails the welcome season with a song: 



THE FISHERMAN^'S HYMN 



The osprey sails above the Sound, 



The geese are gone, the gulls are flying; 

 The herring shoals swarm thick around, 



The nets are launched, the boats are plying. 

 Yo ho, my hearts ! let's seek the deep. 



Raise high the song and cheerly wish her ; 

 Still as the bending net we sweep, 



"God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher." 



She brings us fish — she brings us spring, 



Good times, fair weather, warmth and plenty ; 



Fine store of shad, trout, herring, ling, 



Sheeps-head and drum, and old wives dainty. 



