Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/913

 She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay. Children dear, was it yesterday?

Children dear, were we long alone? 'The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan. Long prayers,' I said, 'in the world they say. Come,' I said, and we rose through the surf in the bay. We went up the beach, by the sandy down Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd town. Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still, To the little grey church on the windy hill. From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers, But we stood without in the cold-blowing airs. We climb'd on the graves, on the stones worn with rains, And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded panes. She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear: 'Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here. Dear heart,' I said, 'we are long alone. The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.' But, ah! she gave me never a look, For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book. Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door. Come away, children, call no more. Come away, come down, call no more.

Down, down, down; Down to the depths of the sea. She sits at her wheel in the humming town, Singing most joyfully. Hark what she sings: 'O joy, O joy, For the humming street, and the child with its toy. For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well. For the wheel where I spun, And the blessed light of the sun.'