The Return Home, 8

Thou pretty fisher-maiden,
Quick, push thy bark to land;
Come hither, and sit beside me,
And toy with me, hand in hand.

Recline thy head on my bosom,
Nor be so fearful of me;
Thou trustest thyself, void of terror,
Each day to the raging sea.

My heart is like the ocean,
Hath tempest, ebb, and flow,
And many pearls full precious
Lie in its depths below.