Read Ebook: Songs of Sea and Sail by Day Thomas Fleming

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Ebook has 313 lines and 21552 words, and 7 pages

PAGE The Mermaid's Song 9 Trafalgar 13 When 18 The Forsaken Port 19 An Early Moonset 24 On the Bridge 25 Missing 30 Making Land 31 At Portsmouth 35 At Anchor 39 From the Cliff 40 Then and Now 42 The Ships 43 The Man-o'-War's Man's Yarn 49 A Foggy Morning 53 Unknown 55 The Coasters 57 To-Day 62 The Sailor of the Sail 63 The Yacht 68 The Trade Wind's Song 69 Execution Rock Light 71 The Cargo Boats 73 Noontide Calm 77 Old Buccaneer's Song 81 The Belfry of the Sea 85 Phantoms 95 Flotsam 98 The Lost Ship 99 The Main Sheet Song 101 The Landfall 103 The Clipper 104 The Constitution 105 The Tartar 107 Warning 110 In September 111 The Homeward Bounder's Song 113 The Spell of the Sea 115 Days of Oak 117 Long, Long Ago 119 Wind Happy Ships 122 The Quest 123

THE MERMAID'S SONG.

Oh, what comes flowing over the sea In the hush of the evening's cool? It is a mermaid singing to me As she sits in a silver pool.

As she sits in a silver pool and sings Of the world I never shall see, Where the dulse-weed clings, And the star-fish rings The red anemone; The world which lies Where human eyes Are never allowed to see The gold and gems And fluted stems Of the crimson coral tree-- Is that what she sings to me? She is haunting and holding my heart with a strain, Where joy lies asleep in the shadow of pain; And the world that is under the sea Is spreading its pleasures and treasures to gain The love that lies dormant in me-- The love that I bear for the sea, For the secret and sorrowful sea; Is luring my feet from the gray land again And filling my soul with the scent of the main, The sound and the scent of the sea; And the speech of the siren is spoken in vain, For that mermaid is singing to me Of the world that is under the sea; And the love that I bear for the ocean again, For the mournful and mutable sea, Has taken possession of me: My heart is enmeshed in the mystical strain That mermaid is singing to me Of the world that lies under the sea. Ah, hark again! In a sadder strain She is singing a song to me-- A song of the unseen sea; She is singing of ships whose wrecks have lain For ages in the sea, In the depths of the sunless sea; And her voice is soft with a thought of the pain That song is giving to me. A thought that I thought forever had lain In the depths of the soundless sea Is searching my soul in that mermaid's strain And bringing a sorrow to me From the world that is under the sea. For I have a friend whose bones have lain For ages in the sea, , And her song has opened that wound again And brought back a sorrow to me-- From the depths of the endless sea. A grief that is grieving my life again, A thought that I thought, forever had lain, And never come back to me, Is searching my soul in that mermaid's strain And bringing a sorrow to me From the world that lies under the sea.

Oh, what comes flowing over the sea In the hush of the evening's cool? It is a mermaid singing to me As she sits in a silver pool.

TRAFALGAR, 1805.

We hailed the morning star Above the Spanish shore; Our cannon's random roar Then woke black Trafalgar. Where our foes Lay in the crescent bay We watched the fog bank gray Melt silently away As the sun uprose. Then rolled the deep alarm-- The foeman's call to arm; And swiftly from our van There pass'd from man to man, "They will fight." With hearts that beat to chase We caught the growing gale, And 'neath a press of sail Bore up to take our place On the right.

Nelson, our admiral then, Greatest of all seamen, We cheered to death again As he pass'd; 'Round toward the land We tacked and stood about-- The hills rang to our shout As lifted and blew out His last command From the mast. Then flash'd our full broadside, Roaring across the tide, As crashing side by side We broke their line; Thro' rolling clouds of smoke Burst in our prows of oak; Their tall sides bent and broke Like pine. As died the stagger'd blast The sails dropt to the mast; That broadside was their last! One more to clip her wing! Quick away! Tigers our boarders spring, Cutlass to cutlass ring, In the fray. We heard no quarter call: A man stood every Gaul! Useless, their flag must fall That day.

The fight thus well begun, We paused a breathing space; Each soul leapt to a face As Nelson in his grace Signaled "Well done!" Staying the tott'ring mast We rounded to the blast, Grappled the next that pass'd-- A huge Spaniard. No room to lift the ports: Black gun to gun retorts-- Lip locked to lip, Each man a firmer grip On his lanyard. To save this pride of Spain A Frenchman joined the fight; Then roaring in our might We smote him with our right Twice, and again. "Cease! Cease!" our Captain cries. "She lies A silent wreck!" Three times we spared that foe, Yet from her came the blow That laid our hero low On the deck.

What more for me to say, Save thro' the fatal fray We marked the hours that day With cheers! Our foes struck one by one; Yet when the fight was done We saw the misty sun Set thro' our tears. O England, strong yet free, The crown we bear to thee, Laurels for victory! Weave cypress in the wreath: For he to whom thou gave The keeping of the wave, Nelson, the true, the brave, Has struck his flag to death.

Oh, men of hero race, In what a fitting place To set his conquering star!-- Amid the battle's roar, Under the rolling shore Where rises wild and hoar Cape Trafalgar.

WHEN.

When western winds are blowing soft Across the Island Sound; When every sail that draws aloft Is swollen true and round; When yellow shores along the lee Slope upward to the sky; When opal bright the land and sea In changeful contact lie; When idle yachts at anchor swim Above a phantom shape; When spires of canvas dot the rim Which curves from cape to cape; When sea-weed strewn the ebbing tide Pours eastward to the main; When clumsy coasters side by side Tack in and out again-- When such a day is mine to live, What has the world beyond to give?

THE FORSAKEN PORT.

Thro' all this perfect summer day The wind has blown from out the west, And now the sunset fires invest Where looms the mainland far away, The old town right abreast. The red-brown roofs and rugged spires Uplift and pierce the sunset fires, The old town right abreast. The ships rise up, and sail, and sail, Then drop beneath the distant rim-- The crimson rim. We watch their topsails float and trail-- Like bubbles 'round a goblet's brim, A moment there they rise and dip, Then break against the sky's red lip. Unhailed the ships go sailing by The old town over there; And yet it seems we hear a cry-- A heart-born cry Of anguish and despair, Of hope lost in despair. In speechful grief the old town stands And beckons with its outstretched hands As the ships go sailing by. Long years ago its port was thronged With many a busy sail, With rustling sail. And many a heart has sighed and longed For that old town's cheery hail-- Has sighed and longed for that old town's welcome hail. Oh, where are they who left thy port In strength of youth, in pride of love? Side by side with a dark consort, Calm seas below, blue skies above, They tacked and stood across the bar: Only the sea knows where they are-- Only the sea! Perhaps at night the phantom ships-- Thy lost ships--come sailing in; Their spectre crews with parted lips That utter no sound, for the spell of death Turns even a laugh to a grin. Do they wait, and list for the din Of the cheers and the bells to welcome them in-- For the cheers and the bells to welcome them in? Do their dead hearts know hopes and fears? Do they dream of the wives they've not seen for years?-- The wives and the sweethearts who watched them thro' tears Sail away, sail away, when the wind was south And the bar was blue at the harbor's mouth, And the gulls flew low like flakes of snow, And the summer wind bore the heave-yo-ho Of the sailors brown Into the town? Are they here, the ones so dear? Alas! the lips that their lips have known, Alas! the hearts that once beat to their own Are lying up on the hillside there, And the daisies and grasses have overgrown Their graves for many a year. Yon sentinel pine that watches the graves Where their wives and sweethearts are laid to rest The wild winter wind defies and outbraves; Its roots are sunk in some loved one's breast. Are their souls at rest? Sometimes, I think, they must wander down here To watch for the ships that never will come. In the silence of night they throng the old pier To welcome the wanderers home; Their lustreless eyes-- Enough of death and ghostly tales! Oh, let the old town keep its vigil there, Watching for those who were! What though the dark ship with us sails-- Ah, fools, to freight our hearts with care! To waste our breath in idle hails, To cringe and cry. We live for those who are, not were!-- We live to live, not die!

AN EARLY MOONSET.

Like galleon flying a picaroon, Along the edge the ship-shap'd moon Leadeth a star across the sea To the cloudy harbor under her lee.

With her splendid lading of golden light She seems to dread the pirate Night; With puffing sails and fretful oars She steereth and speedeth for purple shores.

She will anchor to-night beneath the fort Whose grim guns guard the cloudy port, Where sound and safe from picaroon Rides many an olden and golden moon.

ON THE BRIDGE.

Eight bells ring out from the fo'c'sle head; With a cheery good-eve the mate comes forth, The second goes off to his welcome bed, After giving the course as west by north.

As I stand with my chin on the dodger's ridge And dreamily eye our plunging craft There's a rattle of heels on the flying bridge And a gruff report that the watch is aft.

"All right!" says the mate, with a glance below; "Relieve the wheel and the lookout there!" And then we begin, with our to and fro, The walk and the talk we nightly share.

In silence at first--for our pipes are lit-- We pace and puff, and we pause and turn, And it's up and down, for she rolls a bit When flying light with the sea astern.

But there's a key in the hands of smoke That fits a lock in the lazy brain, And we spring the wards with a quiet joke And rout out a store of yarns again.

Our voices ring with a pleasant sound, And now and again it seems to me As though in the roar that sweeps around We are joined by the social sea.

And in that strange way that talk is bred-- As a few grains sown bring the wheaty stack-- So something afresh the other said Put the roaming brain on another tack.

And we boxed about in an aimless way, With a careless fling from sea to land, And spoke of the world as a young man may When he hasn't the time to understand.

We spoke of the land that gave us birth; We spoke of the one that's home to me: Those nations destined to shape the earth To the single state it is to be--

Of tricks we played in our school-boy days; The fun and frolic of being young; How we jollied life in a hundred ways With gibes that pleased and jests that stung.

And of those we loved--for now we knew With half our life in the dim astern Which lights were false and which lights were true, And whose was the hand that bid them burn.

Of the rough hard life the sailor leads, The pay he gets and the sharks ashore, And what are the laws our shipping needs, And the way things went in days of yore.

Of the sailing ship as she yet survives, Of rigs we never shall see again, Of inventions that save our seamen's lives And murder the breed of sailor men.

We talk of these and of many a bout When a crew came aft for a nasty row-- When loud comes a cry from the fore look-out Of a light on the starboard bow.

"All right!" the response. Then we train our eyes On the western rim thro' the closing night. It's a steamer, sure, by the flash and size-- A liner's electric masthead light.

She rises fast, and is soon up well, Rushing along 'neath a smoky pall, A mass of lights like some huge hotel Ablaze for its annual boarders' ball.

As she grows abeam--for we give her space, For twenty knots is a right of way-- There's an answering glow on old ocean's face And a glint on the waves in play.

And I think, as I watch her speed along, Of the many lives she holds in trust, And ponder what they would do, that throng, If Fate should get in a deadly thrust.

A ship like ours or a sunken wreck-- A crash in the dark--some plates stove in-- A frightened rush for the upper deck, And a clamorous, cowardly din!

How she whose vigor we oft deride-- The woman--would show her courage then, And meet her death at her lover's side In a way to shame the best of men.

But, Science be praised, it is seldom now We lose a ship by a sudden crash, For what with the lights and the whistle's row We luckily dodge a general smash.

And that ship there, as she breasts the swell And ghosts her side with a foamy ridge, Has had many a shave--for logs don't tell All the tales of a steamer's bridge.

In silence we watch her for quite a time Until she becomes a smoky blear, Then as ten rings out from the fo'c'sle chime I go aft to my cheese and my beer.

MISSING.

A cloudless sky, a sleeping sea, A cold gray reach of shore, A gleam of sail upon the lee-- And nothing more.

My eyes saw that, my heart saw more: A woman whose quivering lip Moulded this sentence o'er and o'er, "God keep that ship!"

God keep that ship! Her prayer, not mine, Goes out across the sea To where beyond the misty line A face is turned from me. God keep that ship! Her ship, not mine-- Mine never came back to me.

MAKING LAND.

The fore-royal furled, I pause and I stand, Both feet on the yard, for a look around, With eyes that ache for a sight of the land, For we are homeward bound.

Like a bowl of silver the ocean lies, Untouched by the fret of a single sail, And over its edge the billows uprise And slide before the gale.

I see, close beneath me, the garn's'l bulge, And half of the tops'l swollen and round Swells out above, where the bunts divulge The fores'l's snowy mound.

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