Читать книгу The Gate of the Year - Minnie Louise Haskins - Страница 6

Table of Contents

Oh, I know a sailor-man out on the tide,

A plain sailor-man o’ the sea;

A sailor-man made when God’s Hand stretched out wide,

And measured not scantily.

He’s not young, he’s not old, but he’s just in his prime,

Weathered brown by the beatings of tide and of time,

Well salted and stormed by the sea.

Refrain

Go compass by walls the wild winds east and west,

And press the wide sea in a sparrowhawk’s nest,

And bottle the rays from the furthermost dawn

From the wind and the waves in their glee—

And I’ll frame you my man—on God’s sea.

His eyes are blue flame which would scorch any lie,

My plain sailor-man o’ the sea;

And his breath is the wind in which falsehood must die,

And keen as a sword-blade is he:

Yet his voice can be tender as love’s summer sigh,

And his heart is so safe that a babe would not cry

Did he make it his cradle at sea.

He may die in the fight—he may live to be old,

This plain sailor-man o’ the sea;

Whether living or dying—one tale will be told:

He knew how to do it, did he.

He may sink in the waves or be blown to the breeze,

His spirit is greater than any of these

And he’s made for eternity.