INCLUSIVE EDITION, 1885-1918
733
She thinks she smells the Northland rime,
And the dear dark nights of winter-time.
She wants to be at her own home pier,
To shift her sails and standing gear.
She wants to be in her winter-shed,
To strip herself and go to bed.
Her very bolts are sick for shore,
And we—we want it ten times more!
So all you Gods that love brave men,
Send us a three-reef gale again!
Send us a gale, and watch us come,
With close-cropped canvas slashing home!
But—there's no wind on all these seas,
A long pull for Stavanger !
So we must wake the white-ash breeze,
A long pull for Stavanger !
"ANGUTIVAUN TAINA"
Song of the Returning Hunter (Esquimaux).
OUR gloves are stiff with the frozen blood,
As we come in with the seal—the seal!
