"Flutters a pennant there?"
"No," I said.
"Only a shred of cloud in the sunset red."
"Surely a hull, a hull!"
"Where?" I cried.
"Only a rock half-bared by the ebbing tide."
"Wait you a ship?" I asked.
"Aye!" quoth she.
"The Harbor Belle; her mate comes home to marry me.
"Surely the good ship hath
Met no harm?"
Was it the west wind wailed or the babe on her arm?
"The Harbor Belle!" she urged.
Naught said I.—
For I knew o'er the grave o' the Harbor Belle the sea-gulls fly.
Gustav Kobbe [1857-1918]
ALLAN WATER
On the banks of Allan Water,
When the sweet spring-time did fall,
Was the miller's lovely daughter,
Fairest of them all.
For his bride a soldier sought her,
And a winning tongue had he,
On the banks of Allan Water,
None so gay as she.