Then Yanna by the yule log Starts from her dream to hear A voice that bids her brooding heart Shudder with joy and fear.
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.
"And strange unearthly creatures Make marvel of her hull, Where far below the gulfs of storm There is eternal lull.
"O Yanna, Adrianna, This midnight I am here, Because one night of all my life At yule tide of the year,
"With the stars white in heaven, And peace upon the sea, With all my world in your white arms You gave yourself to me.
"For that one night, my Yanna, Within the dying year, Was it not well to love, and now Can it be well to fear?"
"O Garvin, there is heartache In tales that are half told; But ah, thy cheek is pale to-night, And thy poor hands are cold!
"Tell me the course, the voyage, The ports, and the new stars; Did the long rollers make green surf On the white reefs and bars?"
"O Yanna, Adrianna, Though easily I found The set of those uncharted tides In seas no line could sound,
"And made without a pilot The port without a light, No log keeps tally of the knots That I have sailed to-night.