SEVEN TIMES SEVEN. LONGING FOR HOME.

A song of a boat:—

There was once a boat on a billow:

Lightly she rocked to her port remote,

And the foam was white in her wake like snow,

And her frail mast bowed when the breeze would blow

And bent like a wand of willow.

I shaded mine eyes one day when a boat

Went curtseying over the billow,

I marked her course till a dancing mote

She faded out on the moonlit foam,

And I stayed behind in the dear loved home;

And my thoughts all day were about the boat,

And my dreams upon the pillow.

I pray you hear my song of a boat,

For it is but short:—

My boat, you shall find none fairer afloat,

In river or port.

Long I looked out for the lad she bore,

On the open desolate sea,

And I think he sailed to the heavenly shore,

For he came not back to me —

Ah me!

A song of a nest:—

There was once a nest in a hollow:

Down in the mosses and knot-grass pressed,

Soft and warm, and full to the brim —

Vetches leaned over it purple and dim,

With buttercup buds to follow.

I pray you hear my song of a nest,

For it is not long:—

You shall never light, in a summer quest

The bushes among —

Shall never light on a prouder sitter,

A fairer nestful, nor ever know

A softer sound than their tender twitter

That wind-like did come and go.

I had a nestful once of my own,

Ah happy, happy I!

Right dearly I loved them: but when they were grown

They spread out their wings to fly —

O, one after one they flew away

Far up to the heavenly blue,

To the better country, the upper day,

And — I wish I was going too.

I pray you, what is the nest to me,

My empty nest?

And what is the shore where I stood to see

My boat sail down to the west?

Can I call that home where I anchor yet,

Though my good man has sailed?

Can I call that home where my nest was set,

Now all its hope hath failed?

Nay, but the port where my sailor went,

And the land where my nestlings be:

There is the home where my thoughts are sent,

The only home for me —

Ah me!