Poetry Archives

“Come here to-morrow as the bells ring noon,
I sail at the full sea, my daughter then
I will make known to you.  ’Twill be a boon
If after I have bid good-by, and when
Her eyeballs scorch with watching me depart,
You bring her home again.  She lives with one
Old serving-woman, who has brought her up.
But that is no friend for so free a heart.
No head to match her questions.  It is done.
And I must sail away to come and brim her cup.