Sailor’s Wife's Song.
[W. B. Sangster.—Here first printed.]
Oh weary long this lonely night
An' dowie dark the starless skies,
Like my poor heart that hath nae light,
But comes from my beloved's eyes,
An' thine, dear babe, in lightest sleep,
Unbroken as the summer's deep.
Roll on, thou cold and stilly hours,
Roll on like waves that gently fan
The morning with her honied flowers,
When leaves grow brighter, every one,
An' the soft air, like silver bells,
Sings in the broom that gems our dells.
I hear the gentle rush of wings—
I see the light of wandering stars,
And many a budding hope upsprings,
Guttering with gowden dots and bars;
But ah! woe's me, 'tis in my mind
A peopled world, where all are blind.
And now, ah! now, the vision fades,
The colours fly—the lights are gone—
The inmates hang their weary heads,
Their features freeze—are turn'd to stone,
Alas, alas! my baby boy,
Awake and give thy mother joy.