Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Sailor's Wife

The Sailor's Wife.

On a smooth grassy knoll by the murmuring shore A woman was sitting, a child by her knee;Her beautiful features a dark shadow wore As her eyes wandered wistfully out to the sea.

The sun was just setting behind a dim wood, His golden rays gleaming upon the blue waves;But she only looked out on the burnished flood, And thought of the thousands that there found their graves.

The laverock clomb the blue steep of the sky, And she said, as she heard the sweet notes of his song:"O bird, thou remind'st me of evenings when I Was wooed by my sailor lad, handsome and strong.

"Oh, well I remember that sorrowful day, When I stood on yon hillside and looked out to sea,Where a white-winged bark glided swiftly away, And bore my dear Donald from me—ah! from me!

"He wrote of the beautiful islands abroad, Of their bright-coloured skies and their odorous flowers;His letters with breathings of love overflowed, And he longed to be back to these thorn-shaded bowers.

"There came a long letter, and in it I read— 'We will soon now weigh anchor, and sail for our home;I will come when the sloe is with blossoms o'erspread.' But, alas! of my Donald no tidings have come.

"0 Donald, why comes not thy boat to the bay? My heart—my poor, fluttering heart—be thou still!Perhaps he will come to me some happy day, Oh, teach me, dear God, to submit to Thy will."

And she bowed down her- head o'er her sweet little child, That looked up in her face with its wondering eyes.Ah, woman! 'neath Ocean's dark billows so wild, In Death's peaceful slumber, thy dear husband lies!