 | Songs at the Start |  |
9
GLOUCESTER HARBOR.
North from the beautiful islands,
North from the headlands and highlands,
The long sea-wall,
The white ships flee with the swallow;
The day-beams follow and follow,
Glitter and fall.
North from the headlands and highlands,
The long sea-wall,
The white ships flee with the swallow;
The day-beams follow and follow,
Glitter and fall.
The brown ruddy children that fear not,
Lean over the quay, and they hear not
Warnings of lips;
For their hearts go a-sailing, a-sailing,
Out from the wharves and the wailing
After the ships.
Lean over the quay, and they hear not
Warnings of lips;
For their hearts go a-sailing, a-sailing,
Out from the wharves and the wailing
After the ships.
10
Nothing to them is the golden
Curve of the sands, or the olden
Haunt of the town;
Little they reck of the peaceful
Chiming of bells, or the easeful
Sport on the down:
Curve of the sands, or the olden
Haunt of the town;
Little they reck of the peaceful
Chiming of bells, or the easeful
Sport on the down:
The orchards no longer are cherished;
The charm of the meadow has perished:
Dearer, ay me!
The solitude vast, unbefriended,
The magical voice and the splendid
Fierce will of the sea.
The charm of the meadow has perished:
Dearer, ay me!
The solitude vast, unbefriended,
The magical voice and the splendid
Fierce will of the sea.
Beyond them, by ridges and narrows
The silver prows speed like the arrows
Sudden and fair;
Like the hoofs of Al Borak the wondrous,
Lost in the blue and the thund'rous
Depths of the air;
The silver prows speed like the arrows
Sudden and fair;
Like the hoofs of Al Borak the wondrous,
Lost in the blue and the thund'rous
Depths of the air;
11
On to the central Atlantic,
Where passionate, hurrying, frantic
Elements meet;
To the play and the calm and commotion
Of the treacherous, glorious ocean,
Cruel and sweet.
Where passionate, hurrying, frantic
Elements meet;
To the play and the calm and commotion
Of the treacherous, glorious ocean,
Cruel and sweet.
In the hearts of the children forever
She fashions their growing endeavor,
The pitiless sea;
Their sires in her caverns she stayeth,
The spirits that love her she slayeth,
And laughs in her glee.
She fashions their growing endeavor,
The pitiless sea;
Their sires in her caverns she stayeth,
The spirits that love her she slayeth,
And laughs in her glee.
Woe, woe, for the old fascination!
The women make deep lamentation
In starts and in slips;
Here always is hope unavailing,
Here always the dreamers are sailing
After the ships!
The women make deep lamentation
In starts and in slips;
Here always is hope unavailing,
Here always the dreamers are sailing
After the ships!
| Songs at the Start | |