Western the winds are,
And western the waters,
Where the light lies:
O! what are the winds?
And what are the waters?
Mine are your eyes.
Cold, cold, grow the winds,
And dark grow the waters,
Where the sun dies:
O! what are the winds?
And what are the waters?/
Mine are your eyes.
And down the night winds,
And down the night waters
The music flies:
O! what are the winds?
And what are the waters?
Cold be the winds,
And wild be the waters,
So mine be your eyes.
Lionel Johnson
CAN DOOV DEELISH
Can doov deelish, beside the sea
I stand and stretch my hands to thee
Across the world.
The riderless horses race to shore
With thundering hoofs and shuddering, hoar,
Blown manes uncurled.
Can doov deelish, I cry to thee
Beyond the world, beneath the sea,
Thou being dead.
Where hast thou hidden from the beat
Of crushing hoofs and tearing feet
Thy dear black head?