CASABIANCA

[22by7.livejournal.com]

(I)
Felicia Hemans

The boy stood on the burning deck,
Whence all but him had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
shone round him o'er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though child-like form.

The flames rolled on - he would not go
Without his father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud - "Say, father, say
If yet my task is done?"
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.

"Speak, father!" once again he cried,
"If I may yet be gone!"
And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair;
And looked from that lone post of death
In still, yet brave despair:

And shouted but once more aloud,
"My father! must I stay?"
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made way.

There came a burst of thunder sound -
The boy - oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea!

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part -
But the noblest thing that perished there
Was that young, faithful heart.

(II)
Elizabeth Bishop

Love's the boy stood on the burning deck
trying to recite "The boy stood on
the burning deck". Love's the son
       stood stammering elocution
       while the poor ship in flames went down.

Love's the obstinate boy, the ship,
even the swimming sailors, who
would like a schoolroom platform, too
       or an excuse to stay
       on deck. And love's the burning boy.