midnight
`` Clap the frying-pan down on deck , Tom , and brail the sail up with Jacob , there 's a good boy . You can give it another shake or two afterwards . `` Guide on , my bark , how sweet to rove , With such a beaming eye above ! `` That 's right , my boys , belay all that ; now to our stations ; Jacob on the look-out , Tom to his frying-pan , and I to the helm -- `` No sound is heard to break the spell , Except the water 's gentle swell ; While midnight , like a mimic day , Shines on to guide our moonlight way . `` Well , the moon 's a beautiful creature -- God bless her ! How often have we longed for her in the dark winter , channel-cruising , when the waves were flying over the Eddystone , and trying in their malice to put out the light . I do n't wonder at people making songs to the moon , nor at my singing them .