The wind is up a moment
And whistles at the eaves,
And in his troubled iron dream
The ocean moans and heaves.
She trembles at the door-lock
That he is come again,
And frees the wooden bolt for one
No barrier could detain.
"O Garvin, bonny Garvin,
So late, so late you come!"
The yule log crumbles down and throws
Strange figures on the gloom;
But in the moonlight pouring
Through the half-open door
Stands the gray guest of yule and casts
No shadow on the floor.
The change that is upon him
She knows not in her haste;
About him her strong arms with glad
Impetuous tears are laced.
She's led him to the fireside,
And set the wide oak chair,
And with her warm hands brushed away
The sea-rime from his hair.
"O Garvin, I have waited,--
Have watched the red sun sink,
And clouds of sail come flocking in
Over the world's gray brink,
"With stories of encounter
On plank and mast and spar;
But never the brave barque I launched
And waved across the bar.
"How come you so unsignalled,
When I have watched so well?
Where rides the Adrianna
With my name on boat and bell?"
"O Yanna, golden Yanna,
The Adrianna lies
With the sea dredging through her ports,
The white sand through her eyes.
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