A LYNMOUTH WIDOW
He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blueAs the summer meeting of sky and sea,And the ruddy cliffs had a colder hueThan flushed his cheek when he married me.We passed the porch where the swallows breed,We left the little brown church behind,And I leaned on his arm, though I had no need,Only to feel him so strong and kind.One thing I never can quite forget;It grips my throat when I try to pray—The keen salt smell of a drying netThat hung on the churchyard wall that day.He would have taken a long, long grave—A long, long grave, for he stood so tall....Oh, God! the crash of a breaking wave,And the smell of the nets on the churchyard wall!Amelia Josephine Burr
He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blueAs the summer meeting of sky and sea,And the ruddy cliffs had a colder hueThan flushed his cheek when he married me.We passed the porch where the swallows breed,We left the little brown church behind,And I leaned on his arm, though I had no need,Only to feel him so strong and kind.One thing I never can quite forget;It grips my throat when I try to pray—The keen salt smell of a drying netThat hung on the churchyard wall that day.He would have taken a long, long grave—A long, long grave, for he stood so tall....Oh, God! the crash of a breaking wave,And the smell of the nets on the churchyard wall!Amelia Josephine Burr
He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blueAs the summer meeting of sky and sea,And the ruddy cliffs had a colder hueThan flushed his cheek when he married me.
He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blue
As the summer meeting of sky and sea,
And the ruddy cliffs had a colder hue
Than flushed his cheek when he married me.
We passed the porch where the swallows breed,We left the little brown church behind,And I leaned on his arm, though I had no need,Only to feel him so strong and kind.
We passed the porch where the swallows breed,
We left the little brown church behind,
And I leaned on his arm, though I had no need,
Only to feel him so strong and kind.
One thing I never can quite forget;It grips my throat when I try to pray—The keen salt smell of a drying netThat hung on the churchyard wall that day.
One thing I never can quite forget;
It grips my throat when I try to pray—
The keen salt smell of a drying net
That hung on the churchyard wall that day.
He would have taken a long, long grave—A long, long grave, for he stood so tall....Oh, God! the crash of a breaking wave,And the smell of the nets on the churchyard wall!
He would have taken a long, long grave—
A long, long grave, for he stood so tall....
Oh, God! the crash of a breaking wave,
And the smell of the nets on the churchyard wall!
Amelia Josephine Burr