Sea-Song.

A dash of spray,
A weed-browned way, -
My ship's in the bay,
In the glad blue bay, -
The wind's from the west
And the waves have a crest,
But my bird's in the nest
And my ship's in the bay!

At dawn to stand
Soft hand to hand,
Bare feet on the sand, -
On the hard brown sand, -
To wait, dew-crowned,
For the tarrying sound
Of a keel that will ground
On the scraping sand.

A glad surprise
In the wind-swept skies
Of my wee one's eyes, -
Those wondering eyes.
He will come, my sweet,
And will haste to meet
Those hurrying feet
And those sea-blue eyes.

I know the day
Must weary away,
And my ship's in the bay, -
In the clear, blue bay, -
Ah! there's wind in the west,
For the waves have a crest,
But my bird's in the nest
And my ship's in the bay!