I can feel the vasty mountains
Heave and settle under me,
And the Doomkeel veer and shudder,
Crumbling on the hollow sea.
There's a call, as when a white gull
Cries and beats across the blue;
That must be the Shadow Boatswain
Piping to his shadow crew.
There's a boding sound, like winter
When the pines begin to quail;
That must be the gray wind moaning
In the belly of the sail.
I can feel the icy fingers
Creeping in upon my bones;
There must be a berg to windward
Somewhere in these border zones.
Stir the fire.... I love the sunlight,--
Always loved my shipmate sun.
How the sunflowers beckon to me
From the dooryard one by one!
How the royal lady roses
Strew this summer world of ours!
There'll be none in Lonely Haven;
It is too far north for flowers.
There, sweetheart! And I must leave you.
What should touch my wife with tears?
There's no danger with the Master;
He has sailed the sea for years.
With the sea-wolves on her quarter,
And a white bone in her teeth,
He will steer the shadow cruiser,
Dark before and doom beneath,
Down the last expanse, till morning
Flares above the broken sea,
And the midnight storm is over,
And the Isles are close alee.
So some twilight, when your roses
Are all blown and it is June,
You will turn your blue eyes seaward
Through the white dusk of the moon,
Wondering, as that far sea-cry
Comes upon the wind again,
And you hear the Shadow Boatswain
Piping to his shadow men.
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