The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 5.
John Greenleaf Whittier, Ed.

And well can he tell the very time
     To undertake his task:
When the pork-barrel's low he sits on the chine
     And drums on the empty cask.

The wind is light, and the wave is white
     With the fleece of the flock that's near;
Like the breath of the breeze he comes over the seas
     And faithfully leads them here.

And now he's passed the bolted door
     Where the rusted horse-shoe clings;
So carry the nets to the nearest shore,
     And take what the Shad Spirit brings.