 | Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
236
THE SAILOR'S CHILD.
Over the hilltops, over the mountains,
Over the stretches of long, bright lea,
There is a dear little, dim little island,
Lying asleep in the arms of the sea.
Over the stretches of long, bright lea,
There is a dear little, dim little island,
Lying asleep in the arms of the sea.
Shoulder to shoulder, and never aweary,
Roll in the sea-waters, day after day,
Fringing this dear little, dim little island
All with a wreath of the softest spray.
Roll in the sea-waters, day after day,
Fringing this dear little, dim little island
All with a wreath of the softest spray.
Birds, with wings that are lined with colors,
Made of the hues of the morns and eves,
Slip and slide like the summer sunshine
In and out through the dancing leaves.
Made of the hues of the morns and eves,
Slip and slide like the summer sunshine
In and out through the dancing leaves.
Over the reaches of green sea-waters,
Over the spray-fringe, white as snow,
Winds that are laden rich with spices,
Go and come, and come and go.
Over the spray-fringe, white as snow,
Winds that are laden rich with spices,
Go and come, and come and go.
Wrapt in a veil that is sown with blossoms,
Pink and ivy, apple and rose;
Singing loud with the lark at daybreak,
Low with the dove at the even-close—
Pink and ivy, apple and rose;
Singing loud with the lark at daybreak,
Low with the dove at the even-close—
Waits and watches a sailor's daughter,
Who, when the skies of the midnight frown,
Charms the demons that love the darkness,
And saves the ships that would else go down.
Who, when the skies of the midnight frown,
Charms the demons that love the darkness,
And saves the ships that would else go down.
237
Waits and watches a sailor's daughter,
Fair as the fairest maidens be,
All in this dear little, dim little island,
Lying asleep in the arms of the sea.
Fair as the fairest maidens be,
All in this dear little, dim little island,
Lying asleep in the arms of the sea.
Once this maid had a loyal lover,
Born and rocked on the cradling waves,
Now he lies with their foam for a cover,
Low on the bed of the coral caves.
Born and rocked on the cradling waves,
Now he lies with their foam for a cover,
Low on the bed of the coral caves.
| Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |