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A SON OF THE SEA

I was born for deep-sea faring;

I was bred to put to sea;

Stories of my father's daring

Filled me at my mother's knee.

I was sired among the surges;

I was cubbed beside the foam;

All my heart is in its verges,

And the sea wind is my home.

All my boyhood, from far vernal

Bourns of being, came to me

Dream-like, plangent, and eternal

Memories of the plunging sea.

THE GRAVEDIGGER

Oh, the shambling sea is a sexton old,

And well his work is done.

With an equal grave for lord and knave,

He buries them every one.

Then hoy and rip, with a rolling hip,

He makes for the nearest shore;

And God, who sent him a thousand ship,

Will send him a thousand more;

But some he'll save for a bleaching grave,

And shoulder them in to shore,—

Shoulder them in, shoulder them in,

Shoulder them in to shore.

Oh, the ships of Greece and the ships of Tyre

Went out, and where are they?

In the port they made, they are delayed

With the ships of yesterday.

He followed the ships of England far,

As the ships of long ago;

And the ships of France they led him a dance,

But he laid them all arow.

Oh, a loafing, idle lubber to him

Is the sexton of the town;

For sure and swift, with a guiding lift,

He shovels the dead men down.

But though he delves so fierce and grim,

His honest graves are wide,

As well they know who sleep below

The dredge of the deepest tide.

Oh, he works with a rollicking stave at lip,

And loud is the chorus skirled;

With the burly rote of his rumbling throat

He batters it down the world.

He learned it once in his father's house,

Where the ballads of eld were sung;

And merry enough is the burden rough,

But no man knows the tongue.

Oh, fair, they say, was his bride to see,

And wilful she must have been,

That she could bide at his gruesome side

When the first red dawn came in.

And sweet, they say, is her kiss to those

She greets to his border home;

And softer than sleep her hand's first sweep

That beckons, and they come.

Oh, crooked is he, but strong enough

To handle the tallest mast;

From the royal barque to the slaver dark,

He buries them all at last.

Then hoy and rip, with a rolling hip,

He makes for the nearest shore;

And God, who sent him a thousand ship,

Will send him a thousand more;

But some he'll save for a bleaching grave,

And shoulder them in to shore,—

Shoulder them in, shoulder them in,

Shoulder them in to shore.

THE YULE GUEST

And Yanna by the yule log

Sat in the empty hall,

And watched the goblin firelight

Caper upon the wall:

The goblins of the hearthstone,

Who teach the wind to sing,

Who dance the frozen yule away

And usher back the spring;

The goblins of the Northland,

Who teach the gulls to scream,

Who dance the autumn into dust,

The ages into dream.

Like the tall corn was Yanna,

Bending and smooth and fair,—

His Yanna of the sea-gray eyes

And harvest-yellow hair.

Child of the low-voiced people

Who dwell among the hills,

She had the lonely calm and poise

Of life that waits and wills.

Only to-night a little

With grave regard she smiled,

Remembering the morn she woke

And ceased to be a child.

Outside, the ghostly rampikes,

Those armies of the moon,

Stood while the ranks of stars drew on

To that more spacious noon,—

While over them in silence

Waved on the dusk afar

The gold flags of the Northern light

Streaming with ancient war.

And when below the headland

The riders of the foam

Up from the misty border rode

The wild gray horses home,

And woke the wintry mountains

With thunder on the shore,

Out of the night there came a weird

And cried at Yanna's door.

"O Yanna, Adrianna,

They buried me away

In the blue fathoms of the deep,

Beyond the outer bay.

"But in the yule, O Yanna,

Up from the round dim sea

And reeling dungeons of the fog,

I am come back to thee!"

The wind slept in the forest,

The moon was white and high,

Only the shifting snow awoke

To hear the yule guest cry.

"O Yanna, Yanna, Yanna,

Be quick and let me in!

For bitter is the trackless way

And far that I have been!"

Then Yanna by the yule log

Starts from her dream to hear

A voice that bids her brooding heart

Shudder with joy and fear.

The wind is up a moment

And whistles at the eaves,

And in his troubled iron dream

The ocean moans and heaves.

She trembles at the door-lock

That he is come again,

And frees the wooden bolt for one

No barrier could detain.

"O Garvin, bonny Garvin,

So late, so late you come!"

The yule log crumbles down and throws

Strange figures on the gloom;

But in the moonlight pouring

Through the half-open door

Stands the gray guest of yule and casts

No shadow on the floor.

The change that is upon him

She knows not in her haste;

About him her strong arms with glad

Impetuous tears are laced.

She's led him to the fireside,

And set the wide oak chair,

And with her warm hands brushed away

The sea-rime from his hair.

"O Garvin, I have waited,—

Have watched the red sun sink,

And clouds of sail come flocking in

Over the world's gray brink,

"With stories of encounter

On plank and mast and spar;

But never the brave barque I launched

And waved across the bar.

"How come you so unsignalled,

When I have watched so well?

Where rides the Adrianna

With my name on boat and bell?"

"O Yanna, golden Yanna,

The Adrianna lies

With the sea dredging through her ports,

The white sand through her eyes.

"And strange unearthly creatures

Make marvel of her hull,

Where far below the gulfs of storm

There is eternal lull.

"O Yanna, Adrianna,

This midnight I am here,

Because one night of all my life

At yule tide of the year,

"With the stars white in heaven,

And peace upon the sea,

With all my world in your white arms

You gave yourself to me.

"For that one night, my Yanna,

Within the dying year,

Was it not well to love, and now

Can it be well to fear?"

"O Garvin, there is heartache

In tales that are half told;

But ah, thy cheek is pale to-night,

And thy poor hands are cold!

"Tell me the course, the voyage,

The ports, and the new stars;

Did the long rollers make green surf

On the white reefs and bars?"

"O Yanna, Adrianna,

Though easily I found

The set of those uncharted tides

In seas no line could sound,

"And made without a pilot

The port without a light,

No log keeps tally of the knots

That I have sailed to-night.

"It fell about mid-April;

The Trades were holding free;

We drove her till the scuppers hissed

And buried in the lee.

"O Yanna, Adrianna,

Loose hands and let me go!

The night grows red along the East,

And in the shifting snow

"I hear my shipmates calling,

Sent out to search for me

In the pale lands beneath the moon

Along the troubling sea."

"O Garvin, bonny Garvin,

What is the booming sound

Of canvas, and the piping shrill,

As when a ship comes round?"

"It is the shadow boatswain

Piping his hands to bend

The looming sails on giant yards

Aboard the Nomansfriend.

"She sails for Sunken Harbor

And ports of yester year;

The tern are shrilling in the lift,

The low wind-gates are clear.

"O Yanna, Adrianna,

The little while is done.

Thou wilt behold the brightening sea

Freshen before the sun,

"And many a morning redden

The dark hill slopes of pine;

But I must sail hull-down to-night

Below the gray sea-line.

"I shall not hear the snowbirds

Their morning litany,

For when the dawn comes over dale

I must put out to sea."

"O Garvin, bonny Garvin,

To have thee as I will,

I would that never more on earth

The dawn came over hill."

Then on the snowy pillow,

Her hair about her face,

He laid her in the quiet room,

And wiped away all trace

Of tears from the poor eyelids

That were so sad for him,

And soothed her into sleep at last

As the great stars grew dim.

Tender as April twilight

He sang, and the song grew

Vague as the dreams which roam about

This world of dust and dew:

"O Yanna, Adrianna,

Dear Love, look forth to sea

And all year long until the yule,

Dear Heart, keep watch for me!

"O Yanna, Adrianna,

I hear the calling sea,

And the folk telling tales among

The hills where I would be.

"O Yanna, Adrianna,

Over the hills of sea

The wind calls and the morning comes,

And I must forth from thee.

"But Yanna, Adrianna,

Keep watch above the sea;

And when the weary time is o'er,

Dear Life, come back to me!"

"O Garvin, bonny Garvin—"

She murmurs in her dream,

And smiles a moment in her sleep

To hear the white gulls scream.

Then with the storm foreboding

Far in the dim gray South,

He kissed her not upon the cheek

Nor on the burning mouth,

But once above the forehead

Before he turned away;

And ere the morning light stole in,

That golden lock was gray.

"O Yanna, Adrianna—"

The wind moans to the sea;

And down the sluices of the dawn

A shadow drifts alee.

THE MARRING OF MALYN