The Days Without Alloy.

When I sit on market-days amid the comers and the goers,         Oh! full oft I have a vision of the days without alloy,     And a ship comes up the river with a jolly gang of towers,         And a "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!"     There is busy talk around me, all about mine ears it hummeth,         But the wooden wharves I look on, and a dancing, heaving buoy,     For 'tis tidetime in the river, and she cometh - oh, she cometh!         With a "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!"     Then I hear the water washing, never golden waves were brighter,         And I hear the capstan creaking - 'tis a sound that cannot cloy.     Bring her to, to ship her lading, brig or schooner, sloop or lighter,         With a "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!"     "Will ye step aboard, my dearest? for the high seas lie before us."         So I sailed adown the river in those days without alloy.     We are launched! But when, I wonder, shall a sweeter sound float o'er us         Than yon "pull'e haul'e, pull'e haul'e, yoy! heave, hoy!"