WATER FRONT STREETS
WATER FRONT STREETS
The spring is not so beautiful there,—
But dream ships sail away
To where the spring is wondrous rare
And life is gay.
The spring is not so beautiful there,—
But lads put out to sea
Who carry beauties in their hearts
And dreams, like me.
A FAREWELL
With gypsies and sailors,
Wanderers of the hills and seas,
I go to seek my fortune.
With pious folk and fair
I must have a parting.
But you will not miss me,—
You who live between the hills
And have never seen the seas.
LONG TRIP
The sea is a wilderness of waves,
A desert of water.
We dip and dive,
Rise and roll,
Hide and are hidden
On the sea.
Day, night,
Night, day,
The sea is a desert of waves,
A wilderness of water.
PORT TOWN
Hello, sailor boy,
In from the sea!
Hello, sailor,
Come with me!
Come on drink cognac.
Rather have wine?
Come here, I love you.
Come and be mine.
Lights, sailor boy,
Warm, white lights.
Solid land, kid.
Wild, white nights.
Come on, sailor,
Out o’ the sea.
Let’s go, sweetie!
Come with me.
SEA CALM
How still,
How strangely still
The water is today.
It is not good
For water
To be so still that way.
CARIBBEAN SUNSET
God having a hemorrhage,
Blood coughed across the sky,
Staining the dark sea red,
That is sunset in the Caribbean.
YOUNG SAILOR
He carries
His own strength
And his own laughter,
His own today
And his own hereafter,—
This strong young sailor
Of the wide seas.
What is money for?
To spend, he says.
And wine?
To drink.
And women?
To love.
And today?
For joy.
And tomorrow?
For joy.
And the green sea
For strength,
And the brown land
For laughter.
And nothing hereafter.
SEASCAPE
Off the coast of Ireland
As our ship passed by
We saw a line of fishing ships
Etched against the sky.
Off the coast of England
As we rode the foam
We saw an Indian merchantman
Coming home.
NATCHA
Natcha, offering love.
For ten shillings offering love.
Offering: A night with me, honey.
A long, sweet night with me.
Come, drink palm wine.
Come, drink kisses.
A long, dream night with me.
SEA CHARM
Sea charm
The sea’s own children
Do not understand.
They know
But that the sea is strong
Like God’s hand.
They know
But that sea wind is sweet
Like God’s breath,
And that the sea holds
A wide, deep death.
DEATH OF AN OLD SEAMAN
We buried him high on a windy hill,
But his soul went out to sea.
I know, for I heard, when all was still,
His sea-soul say to me:
Put no tombstone at my head,
For here I do not make my bed.
Strew no flowers on my grave,
I’ve gone back to the wind and wave.
Do not, do not weep for me,
For I am happy with my sea.