AUNT ZILLAH SPEAKS

I never look upon the sea

And hear its waves sighing,

But I must hie me home again

To still my heart's wild crying.

All my years like drowned sailors,

All my days that used to be,

Seem drifting in the silver spray

And mourning by the sea.

But when I take a holiday

I go where flowers are growing,

Where thrushes sing and skylarks wing

And happy streams are flowing;

And the great hills clothed with bracken,

As far as I would flee,

Fling their towering crests to the stars on high

To hide me from the sea.