THE SAILOR'S WIFE.

 

THE SAILOR'S WIFE.- A POEM

By CHARLES MACKAY  

Part I

I'VE a letter from thy sire, 
Baby mine! baby mine! 

1 can read and never tire, 

Baby mine! 

He is sailing o'er the sea,- 

He is coming back to thee, 

He is coming home to me, 

Baby mine! 

He's been parted from us long, 

Baby mine! baby mine! 

But if hearts be true and strong, 

Baby mine! 

They shall brave misfortune's blast, 

And be overpaid at last 

For all pain and sorrow passed, 

Baby mine! 

Oh! I long to see his face, 

Baby mine! baby mine! 

In his old accustomed place, 

Baby mine! 

Like the rose of May in bloom, 

Like a star amid the gloom, 

Like the sunshine in the room, 

Baby mine! 

Thou wilt see him and rejoice, 

Baby mine! baby mine! 

Thou wilt know him by his voice, 

Baby mine! 

By his love-looks that endear, 

By his laughter, ringing clear, 

By his eyes that know not fear, 

Baby mine! 

I'm so glad- I cannot sleep, 

Baby mine! baby mine! 

I'm so happy- I could weep, 

Baby mine! 

He is sailing o'er the sea, 

He is coming home to me, 

He is coming back to thee, 

Baby mine! 

Part II

O'ER the blue ocean gleaming 

She sees a distant ship, 

As small to view 

As the white sea-mew, 

Whose wings in the billow dip. 

'Blow, favouring gales, in her answering sails! 

Blow steadily and free! 

Rejoicing, strong, 

Singing a song, 

Her rigging and her spars among, 

And waft the vessel in pride along, 

That bears my love to me.' 

Nearer- still nearer driving, 

The white sails grow and swell; 

Clear to her eves 

The pennant flies, 

And the flag she knows so well. 

'Blow, favouring gales, in her answering sails! 

Waft him, O gentle sea!

And still, O heart! 

Thy fluttering start! 

Why throb and beat as thou would'st part, 

When all so happy and blessed thou art? 

He comes again to thee!'

The swift ship drops her anchor-

A boat puts off for shore,- 

Against its prow, 

The ripples flow, 

To the music of the oar. 

'And art thou here, mine own,my dear, 

Safe from the perilous sea? 

Safe, safe at home, 

No more to roam! 

Blow, tempests blow- my love has come; 

And sprinkling the clouds with your dashing foam! 

He shall part no more from me!' 

CHARLES MACKAY