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Poems

Chapter 6: THE SEA MAN
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About This Book

A lyrical collection of short poems that moves between domestic intimacy and mythic or maritime imagery, often meditating on motherhood, childhood, sleep, and loss. The pieces range from direct child songs and brief quatrains to sonnets, hymns, odes, and narrative ballads, and include themed sequences such as child songs and a set of Iseult poems. Language favors simple, musical phrasing and quiet introspection, balancing tenderness and elegy with occasional folktale drama. Recurring motifs of nature, the sea, and longing knit the diverse pieces into a cohesive emotional landscape.

THE SEA MAN

It was the burgher’s daughter,
As fair as maid could be,
That loved too well the stranger,
A man from off the sea.
My mother she was a sea maid;
My father he loved no shore.
Thou must bury me under billows,
Or thou ne’er shall see me more!
She’s kissed him lip and forehead;
She’s given him her vow:
“Five-fathom sea shall cover thee,
But only love me now!”

For seven years her sleep is sweet
Against the sea man’s heart.
“But now hath come my time to die,
And now we twain must part.
“Farewell, my little daughter!
Farewell, my bonny son!
Last night the waves did call my name;
My life on land is done.”
She holds him close and closer;
The bitter tears fall down.
“Remember now thy maiden vow,
Or woe betide this town!
Remember the oath ye gave me,
Nor bury me but in sea,
For the ocean will come to seek its own
If ye cheat my waves of me!
Now come her haughty sisters;
Now comes her father stern.
“This deed brings little honor
For all the world to learn.
“Our fathers lie in holy ground;
Their tombs are carven well;
A heathen stranger cast a-sea
Were too much shame to tell!”
They’ve buried him in the minster high
That stands beside her door,
But the winds o’ the air have drowned the prayer,
And the sea foams up the shore.

“Mother, I hear the billows roll,
I hear them hiss and moan!”
“Nay, little son, their fury’s done,
’Tis but the wind alone.”
“Mother, I smell the salt sea wind,
I taste the salt sea spray!”
“Nay, daughter mine, some dream is thine,
I’ll sing thy fear away.”
“Mother, we cannot hear thy voice!
The sea rolls loud and high!
It rushes up the minster street
And flings the church door by!”
The waves pour out the windows wide,
They’ve washed the altar bare,
They’ve torn the flowers from the stranger’s tomb,
And heaped wet sea-weed there!

It was the burgher’s daughter
That made her prayer in vain,
For all that drownèd city
Was never seen again.
For all its goodly gardens,
For all its towers so high,
Five-fathom sea rolls over it
And shuts it from the sky.
Then bury the sea man deeply,
Five fathom out from shore,
Lest the ocean come in to find him,
And ye see the sun no more!