THE PORTSMOUTH SAILOR.
Come back, O magical evenings
Of Decembers long ago,
When the north wind moaned at the windows,
Herald of drifting snow;
But, within, the great logs glowing
And the chimney's ruddy blaze
Made all the room like the rosy fall
Of summer's fairest days!
Of Decembers long ago,
When the north wind moaned at the windows,
Herald of drifting snow;
But, within, the great logs glowing
And the chimney's ruddy blaze
Made all the room like the rosy fall
Of summer's fairest days!
There, in a joyous circle,—
Five girls and boys were we—
About our grandame's chair we sat
And listened to tales of the sea.
For she had come from Portsmouth town,
And her brothers were sailors tall;
She knew the lore of the fisher-folk,
And every beach-bird's call;
Five girls and boys were we—
About our grandame's chair we sat
And listened to tales of the sea.
For she had come from Portsmouth town,
And her brothers were sailors tall;
She knew the lore of the fisher-folk,
And every beach-bird's call;
And could tell us of storm, and wraith, and wreck,
And ships becalmed on the line,
And sunny lands whence the captains brought
Olives and figs and wine,—
Till our eyes were wide with wonder,
And Robert would softly say,
And ships becalmed on the line,
And sunny lands whence the captains brought
Olives and figs and wine,—
Till our eyes were wide with wonder,
And Robert would softly say,
