Ballads of Lost Haven | Page 3

well to love, and now?Can it be well to fear?"
"O Garvin, there is heartache?In tales that are half told;?But ah, thy cheek is pale to-night,?And thy poor hands are cold!
"Tell me the course, the voyage,?The ports, and the new stars;?Did the long rollers make green surf?On the white reefs and bars?"
"O Yanna, Adrianna,?Though easily I found?The set of those uncharted tides?In seas no line could sound,
"And made without a pilot?The port without a light,?No log keeps tally of the knots?That I have sailed to-night.
"It fell about mid-April;?The Trades were holding free;?We drove her till the scuppers hissed?And buried in the lee.

"O Yanna, Adrianna,?Loose hands and let me go!?The night grows red along the East,?And in the shifting snow
"I hear my shipmates calling,?Sent out to search for me?In the pale lands beneath the moon?Along the troubling sea."
"O Garvin, bonny Garvin,?What is the booming sound?Of canvas, and the piping shrill,?As when a ship comes round?"
"It is the shadow boatswain?Piping his hands to bend?The looming sails on giant yards?Aboard the Nomansfriend.
"She sails for Sunken Harbor?And ports of yester year;?The tern are shrilling in the lift,?The low wind-gates are clear.
"O Yanna, Adrianna,?The little while is done.?Thou wilt behold the brightening sea?Freshen before the sun,
"And many a morning redden?The dark hill slopes of pine;?But I must sail hull-down to-night?Below the gray sea-line.
"I shall not hear the snowbirds?Their morning litany,?For when the dawn comes over dale?I must put out to sea."
"O Garvin, bonny Garvin,?To have thee as I will,?I would that never more on earth?The dawn came over hill."

Then on the snowy pillow,?Her hair about her face,?He laid her in the quiet room,?And wiped away all trace
Of tears from the poor eyelids?That were so sad for him,?And soothed her into sleep at last?As the great stars grew dim.
Tender as April twilight?He sang, and the song grew?Vague as the dreams which roam about?This world of dust and dew:
"O Yanna, Adrianna,?Dear Love, look forth to sea?And all year long until the yule,?Dear Heart, keep watch for me!
"O Yanna, Adrianna,?I hear the calling sea,?And the folk telling tales among?The hills where I would be.
"O Yanna, Adrianna,?Over the hills of sea?The wind calls and the morning comes,?And I must forth from thee.
"But Yanna, Adrianna,?Keep watch above the sea;?And when the weary time is o'er,?Dear Life, come back to me!"
"O Garvin, bonny Garvin--"?She murmurs in her dream,?And smiles a moment in her sleep?To hear the white gulls scream.
Then with the storm foreboding?Far in the dim gray South,?He kissed her not upon the cheek?Nor on the burning mouth,
But once above the forehead?Before he turned away;?And ere the morning light stole in,?That golden lock was gray.
"O Yanna, Adrianna--"?The wind moans to the sea;?And down the sluices of the dawn?A shadow drifts alee.
THE MARRING OF MALYN
I
THE MERRYMAKERS
Among the wintry mountains beside the Northern sea?There is a merrymaking, as old as old can be.
Over the river reaches, over the wastes of snow,?Halting at every doorway, the white drifts come and go.
They scour upon the open, and mass along the wood,?The burliest invaders that ever man withstood.
With swoop and whirl and scurry, these riders of the drift Will mount and wheel and column, and pass into the lift.
All night upon the marshes you hear their tread go by,?And all night long the streamers are dancing on the sky.
Their light in Malyn's chamber is pale upon the floor,?And Malyn of the mountains is theirs for evermore.
She fancies them a people in saffron and in green,?Dancing for her. For Malyn is only seventeen.
Out there beyond her window, from frosty deep to deep,?Her heart is dancing with them until she falls asleep.
Then all night long through heaven, with stately to and fro, To music of no measure, the gorgeous dancers go.
The stars are great and splendid, beryl and gold and blue, And there are dreams for Malyn that never will come true.
Yet for one golden Yule-tide their royal guest is she,?Among the wintry mountains beside the Northern sea.
II
A SAILOR'S WEDDING
There is a Norland laddie who sails the round sea-rim,?And Malyn of the mountains is all the world to him.?The Master of the Snowflake, bound upward from the line, He smothers her with canvas along the crumbling brine.?He crowds her till she buries and shudders from his hand, For in the angry sunset the watch has sighted land;?And he will brook no gainsay who goes to meet his bride. But their will is the wind's will who traffic on the tide. Make home, my bonny schooner! The sun goes down to light The gusty crimson wind-halls against the wedding night.
She gathers up the distance, and grows and veers and swings, Like any homing swallow with nightfall in her wings.?The wind's white sources glimmer with shining gusts of rain; And in the Ardise country the spring comes back again.?It is the brooding April, haunted and sad and dear,?When vanished things return