THE CALL
Oh! there’s little ease on the changing seas And the ploughing yields small gain, But I’m sick for the feel of the shearing keel And the lash of the gusty rain. The clean-cut line and the creamy shine Of the sails on the morning sea, And the dash and sway and the fresh salt spray As the crisping wavelets flee. I Oh! the swerving rush and the sudden hush I As we round the weather mark, And the liquid lights in the velvet nights As we drift home after dark.
The long warm reach by the golden beach. Through the summer afternoon, Till the twilight dies and the shadows rise And the grey mists veil the moon. The books arow in the cabin’s glow When the glass begins to fall, And the click and rap as the halliards tap In the chill of the gathering squall. Oh! there’s little ease on the changing seas, But the salt is in the grain, And the call of the sea is on you and me To serve her once again. (From Mrs. Bellingham, 35 Fort St. George, Madras.) i
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Ladies' Mirror, Volume 3, Issue 5, 1 November 1924, Page 27
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188THE CALL Ladies' Mirror, Volume 3, Issue 5, 1 November 1924, Page 27
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