The Star of Discontent

O THOU, sweet friend, would I might soothe thy fear!

Our night is dark—the little vessel drifts

Unpiloted, and heedless of its rifts

The shipmen prank themselves in festal gear.

And shout that all is well, afar and near,

What need have ocean-drifters of God’s gifts

Of chart and compass? Lo, as each wind shifts,

The wandering vessel reels; its plight how drear!

Brave hearts, despair not; all is not yet lost—

All is not lost beneath black Northern skies;

The slumberer awakens, tempest-tost,

And all his soul in anguish heavenward cries;

And Hope shines forth in Jewry’s firmament—

One ray of hope—The Star of Discontent.