The Sailor, Sylvia Warner.

The Sailor.
by Sylvia Townsend Warner, 1893-?

I have a young love—
A landward lass is she—
And thus she entreated:
‘O tell me of the sea
That on thy next voyage
My thoughts may follow thee.’

I took her up a hill
And showed her hills green,
One after other
With valleys between:
So green and gentle, I said,
Are the waves I’ve seen.

I led her by the hand
Down the grassy way,
And showed her the hedgerows
That were white with May:
So white and fleeting, I said,
Is the salt sea-spray.

I bade her lean her head
Down against my side,
Rising and falling
On my breath to ride:
Thus rode the vessel, I said,
On the rocking tide.

For she so young is, and tender,
I would not have her know
What it is that I go to
When to sea I must go,
Lest she should lie awake and tremble
When the great storm-winds blow.