Waiting for the Ship

by Charles Brownell

We are ever waiting, waiting,
Waiting for the tide to turn—
“For the train at Coventry”—
For the sluggish fire to burn—
For a far-off friend's return.

We are ever hoping, hoping,
Hoping that the wind will shift—
That success may crown our venture—
That the morning fog may lift—
That the dying may have shrift.

We are ever fearing, fearing,
Fearing lest the ship have sailed—
That the sick may ne'er recover—
That the letter was not mailed—
That the trusted firm has failed.

We are ever wishing, wishing,
Wishing we were far at sea—
That the winter were but over—
That we could but find the key—
That the prisoner were free.