Ballads of Lost Haven | Page 2

a thousand ship,?Will send him a thousand more;?But some he'll save for a bleaching grave,?And shoulder them in to shore,--?Shoulder them in, shoulder them in,?Shoulder them in to shore.
Oh, the ships of Greece and the ships of Tyre?Went out, and where are they??In the port they made, they are delayed?With the ships of yesterday.
He followed the ships of England far,?As the ships of long ago;?And the ships of France they led him a dance,?But he laid them all arow.
Oh, a loafing, idle lubber to him?Is the sexton of the town;?For sure and swift, with a guiding lift,?He shovels the dead men down.
But though he delves so fierce and grim,?His honest graves are wide,?As well they know who sleep below?The dredge of the deepest tide.
Oh, he works with a rollicking stave at lip,?And loud is the chorus skirled;?With the burly rote of his rumbling throat?He batters it down the world.
He learned it once in his father's house,?Where the ballads of eld were sung;?And merry enough is the burden rough,?But no man knows the tongue.
Oh, fair, they say, was his bride to see,?And wilful she must have been,?That she could bide at his gruesome side?When the first red dawn came in.
And sweet, they say, is her kiss to those?She greets to his border home;?And softer than sleep her hand's first sweep?That beckons, and they come.
Oh, crooked is he, but strong enough?To handle the tallest mast;?From the royal barque to the slaver dark,?He buries them all at last.
Then hoy and rip, with a rolling hip,?He makes for the nearest shore;?And God, who sent him a thousand ship,?Will send him a thousand more;?But some he'll save for a bleaching grave,?And shoulder them in to shore,--?Shoulder them in, shoulder them in,?Shoulder them in to shore.
THE YULE GUEST
And Yanna by the yule log?Sat in the empty hall,?And watched the goblin firelight?Caper upon the wall:
The goblins of the hearthstone,?Who teach the wind to sing,?Who dance the frozen yule away?And usher back the spring;
The goblins of the Northland,?Who teach the gulls to scream,?Who dance the autumn into dust,?The ages into dream.
Like the tall corn was Yanna,?Bending and smooth and fair,--?His Yanna of the sea-gray eyes?And harvest-yellow hair.
Child of the low-voiced people?Who dwell among the hills,?She had the lonely calm and poise?Of life that waits and wills.
Only to-night a little?With grave regard she smiled,?Remembering the morn she woke?And ceased to be a child.
Outside, the ghostly rampikes,?Those armies of the moon,?Stood while the ranks of stars drew on?To that more spacious noon,--
While over them in silence?Waved on the dusk afar?The gold flags of the Northern light?Streaming with ancient war.
And when below the headland?The riders of the foam?Up from the misty border rode?The wild gray horses home,
And woke the wintry mountains?With thunder on the shore,?Out of the night there came a weird?And cried at Yanna's door.
"O Yanna, Adrianna,?They buried me away?In the blue fathoms of the deep,?Beyond the outer bay.
"But in the yule, O Yanna,?Up from the round dim sea?And reeling dungeons of the fog,?I am come back to thee!"
The wind slept in the forest,?The moon was white and high,?Only the shifting snow awoke?To hear the yule guest cry.
"O Yanna, Yanna, Yanna,?Be quick and let me in!?For bitter is the trackless way?And far that I have been!"
Then Yanna by the yule log?Starts from her dream to hear?A voice that bids her brooding heart?Shudder with joy and fear.
The wind is up a moment?And whistles at the eaves,?And in his troubled iron dream?The ocean moans and heaves.
She trembles at the door-lock?That he is come again,?And frees the wooden bolt for one?No barrier could detain.
"O Garvin, bonny Garvin,?So late, so late you come!"?The yule log crumbles down and throws?Strange figures on the gloom;
But in the moonlight pouring?Through the half-open door?Stands the gray guest of yule and casts?No shadow on the floor.
The change that is upon him?She knows not in her haste;?About him her strong arms with glad?Impetuous tears are laced.
She's led him to the fireside,?And set the wide oak chair,?And with her warm hands brushed away?The sea-rime from his hair.
"O Garvin, I have waited,--?Have watched the red sun sink,?And clouds of sail come flocking in?Over the world's gray brink,
"With stories of encounter?On plank and mast and spar;?But never the brave barque I launched?And waved across the bar.
"How come you so unsignalled,?When I have watched so well??Where rides the Adrianna?With my name on boat and bell?"
"O Yanna, golden Yanna,?The Adrianna lies?With the sea dredging through her ports,?The white sand through her eyes.
"And strange unearthly creatures?Make marvel of her hull,?Where far below the gulfs of storm?There is eternal lull.
"O Yanna, Adrianna,?This midnight I am here,?Because one night of all my life?At yule tide of the year,
"With the stars white in heaven,?And peace upon the sea,?With all my world in your white arms?You gave yourself to me.
"For that one night, my Yanna,?Within the dying year,?Was it not