This poem was written by my father, who passed away in 1955. Someone in my family found the poem years after his death. Because the paper is so old, it is difficult to make out the name of the ship on which he was travelling. I have never been to Harbour Breton, but it must be a beautiful place. I love the Downhome and read it from cover to cover.

Oh! Beautiful Harbour Breton,
With the hills that tower so high,
And the placid waters below them,
Reflecting the azure sky.

I stand on the deck of the ?,
As she quietly glides her way
I long to be ashore once more,
I'm anxious there to stay.

The good ship moves more swiftly
We pass the pointed beach,
Below us the engines are thumping,
Above us the seagulls screech.

Now the little church is full in view,
Outlined against the sky
And the cross above, emblem of love,
Its arm stretched out on high.

And now we're passing Rocky Point
Where stands the beacon light,
Which sends its rays o'er the lonely waves,
When day gives place to night.

Warning each little fishing boat,
Or ships from o'er the sea,
And bringing them home from the distant land
To the haven where they would be.

But soon our course is altered,
We're heading out of the bay
Leaving a trail of smoke behind
As we outward plow our way.

On our right is the lonely Friar,
With his aged head low bent,
Like a monk of old, sitting there so bold,
When the day is nearly spent.

Farewell sweet Harbour Breton,
The home of many friends,
The mists may cover the hillsides
And above them the blue sky blends.

Farewell dear rippling wavelets,
Goodbye to your valleys fair
May God above in His realm of love
Keep all beneath His care.   Submitted By: NULL