Many Many Moons/The Carin on the Cliff
THE CABIN ON THE CLIFF
The little cabin seems to wear
Such a panic-stricken air—
Clinging perilously high
Silhouetted on the sky.
Such a panic-stricken air—
Clinging perilously high
Silhouetted on the sky.
There is such a tragic fear
In the furtive eyes that peer
Down upon the ocean's jaw,
Red and ravenous of maw.
In the furtive eyes that peer
Down upon the ocean's jaw,
Red and ravenous of maw.
Such a terror in her soul
When the casual pebbles roll,—
Oh, the frantic nervous gripping,
Fearful that her hands are slipping!
When the casual pebbles roll,—
Oh, the frantic nervous gripping,
Fearful that her hands are slipping!
Such a never-ending dread
Of the forest overhead,—
Wondering when the inching spruce
Will crowd her aching fingers loose.
Of the forest overhead,—
Wondering when the inching spruce
Will crowd her aching fingers loose.