"It fell about mid-April; The Trades were holding free; We drove her till the scuppers hissed And buried in the lee.
"O Yanna, Adrianna, Loose hands and let me go! The night grows red along the East, And in the shifting snow
"I hear my shipmates calling, Sent out to search for me In the pale lands beneath the moon Along the troubling sea."
"O Garvin, bonny Garvin, What is the booming sound Of canvas, and the piping shrill, As when a ship comes round?"
"It is the shadow boatswain Piping his hands to bend The looming sails on giant yards Aboard the Nomansfriend.
"She sails for Sunken Harbor And ports of yester year; The tern are shrilling in the lift, The low wind-gates are clear.
"O Yanna, Adrianna, The little while is done. Thou wilt behold the brightening sea Freshen before the sun,
"And many a morning redden The dark hill slopes of pine; But I must sail hull-down to-night Below the gray sea-line.
"I shall not hear the snowbirds Their morning litany, For when the dawn comes over dale I must put out to sea."
"O Garvin, bonny Garvin, To have thee as I will, I would that never more on earth The dawn came over hill."
Then on the snowy pillow, Her hair about her face, He laid her in the quiet room, And wiped away all trace
Of tears from the poor eyelids That were so sad for him, And soothed her into sleep at last As the great stars grew dim.
Tender as April twilight He sang, and the song grew Vague as the dreams which roam about This world of dust and dew:
"O Yanna, Adrianna, Dear Love, look forth to sea And all year long until the yule, Dear Heart, keep watch for me!
"O Yanna, Adrianna, I hear the calling sea, And the folk telling tales among The hills where I would be.
"O Yanna, Adrianna, Over the hills of sea The wind calls and the morning comes, And I must forth from thee.
"But Yanna, Adrianna, Keep watch above the sea; And when the weary time is o'er, Dear Life, come back to me!"
"O Garvin, bonny Garvin--" She murmurs in her dream, And smiles a moment in her sleep To hear the white gulls scream.
Then with the storm foreboding Far in the dim gray South, He kissed her not upon the cheek Nor on the burning mouth,
But once above the forehead Before he turned away; And ere the morning light stole in, That golden lock was gray.