THE LADY OF THE PROW
BERMUDA, MAY, 1383
The salt tides ebb, the salt tides flow,
From the near isles the soft airs blow;
From leagues remote, with roar and din,
Over the reefs the waves rush in;
The wild white breakers foam and fret,
Day follows day, stars rise and set;
Yet, grandly poised, as calm and fair
As some proud spirit of the air,
Unmoved she lifts her radiant brow—
She, the White Lady of the Prow!
From the near isles the soft airs blow;
From leagues remote, with roar and din,
Over the reefs the waves rush in;
The wild white breakers foam and fret,
Day follows day, stars rise and set;
Yet, grandly poised, as calm and fair
As some proud spirit of the air,
Unmoved she lifts her radiant brow—
She, the White Lady of the Prow!
The winds blow east, the winds blow west,
From woodlands low to the eagle's nest;
The winds blow north, the winds blow south.
To steal the sweets from the lily's mouth!
We come and go; we spread our sails
Like sea-gulls to the favoring gales;
Or, soft and slow, our oars we dip
Under the lee of the stranded ship.
Yet little recks she when or how,
The grand White Lady of the Prow.
From woodlands low to the eagle's nest;
The winds blow north, the winds blow south.
To steal the sweets from the lily's mouth!
We come and go; we spread our sails
Like sea-gulls to the favoring gales;
Or, soft and slow, our oars we dip
Under the lee of the stranded ship.
Yet little recks she when or how,
The grand White Lady of the Prow.
We laugh, we love, we smile, we sigh,
But never she heeds as we glide by—
Never she cares for our idle ways
Nor turns from the brink of the world her gaze!
But never she heeds as we glide by—
Never she cares for our idle ways
Nor turns from the brink of the world her gaze!
