Page:Captain Craig; a book of poems.djvu/120

106 Silent enough to be ghosts on guard, We ferried the dead girl home.

We ferried her down to the voiceless wharf, And we carried her up to the light; And we left the two to the father there, Who counted the coals that night.

Then back we steered through the foam again, But our thoughts were fast and few; And all we did was to crowd the surge And to measure the life we knew;—

Till at last we came where a dancing gleam Skipped out to us, we three,— And the dark wet mooring pointed home Like a finger from the sea.

Then out we pushed the teetering skiff And in we drew to the stairs; And up we went, each man content With a life that fed no cares.

Fingers were cold and feet were cold, And the tide was cold and rough; But the light was warm, and the room was warm, And the world was good enough.