OH the yellow boisterous sea, <br />The surging, chafing, murderous sea! <br />And the wind-gusts hurtle the torn clouds by, <br />On to the south through a shuddering sky, <br />And the bare black ships scud aloof from the land. <br />'Tis as like the day as can be, <br />When the ship came in sight that came never to strand, <br />The ship that was blown on the sunken sand— <br />And he coming back to me! <br /> <br />Oh the great white snake of foam, <br />The coiling, writhing, snake of white foam, <br />Hissing and huddering out in the bay, <br />Over the banks where the wrecked ship lay, <br />Over the sands where the dead may lie deep! <br />There are some in the churchyard loam, <br />Some two or three the sea flung to our keep: <br />Their mothers can sit by a grave to weep, <br />But my son never came home. <br /> <br />Never, never, living or dead— <br />Oh, never, Willie, living or dead, <br />Could you keep your word and come back to me! <br />Oh, my darling! As like this day as can be, <br />When the ship came in sight that came never to strand, <br />When the ship came rounding the head, <br />Close to the haven and close to the sand.— <br />And their graves are long green that were tossed to land. <br />Ah, 'Sure to come back,' he said!<br /><br />Augusta Davies Webster<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-coarse-morning/
