And he, my Joe, must go to reap the harvest of the deep,
While I, like other women, stayed behind to mourn and weep,
And I would see his face no more till autumn woods were brown.
His schooner Nan was swift and new, the pride of Gloucester town;
He called her by my name. ''Tis sure to bring me luck,' said Joe.
She spread her wings, and through my tears I stood and watched her go.
"The days grew hot and long; I sewed the crisp and shining seams
Of this, my wedding-gown, and dreamed a thousand happy dreams
Of future years and Joe, while leaf and bud and sweet marsh-flower
I fashioned on the muslin fine, for many a patient hour.