The Vassal

By Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

WIND of the North, O far, wild wind

Born of a far, lone sea —

When suns are soft and breezes kind

Why are you kin to me?

Uncounted years above the sea,

Rock-fortressed from its rage,

The fishermen, your fathers, kept

A barren heritage —

Grim as the sea they forced to pay

The sea-toll of their wage.

And lo! The fate which made you hers

And gave you of her best

And set you in a sunny place,

Down-sloping to the West,

Forgot to change your fisher's heart

Serf to the sea's unrest!

Wind of the North! O bitter wind,

I hear the wild seas fret —

In the dim spaces of the mind

They claim me vassal yet!