Ballad

"O mother, the wind wails wearily;
The twilight gathers round the shore
And on the sea;
Oh, loud he cries, ' Love come to me,
And weep no more! '
Alas! my love, I am not free,
And my heart is sore."

"Be still, my daughter, and have no fear,
'T is but your fancy's idle play.
No sound ye hear
Save winds and breakers roaring near
From the vexed bay;
Be still, my child, my daughter dear,
Wait for the day."

"O Willie, the night is bleak and bare,
No moonlight shines upon the main.
In my gold hair,
And on my shoulders white and fair,
I feel the rain.
Willie, my love, where are you, where?
Do you call in pain?"

"Oh, ask me not too much, my love,
The starless night is like a pall
Your truth to prove;
Will you not come through bay and cove,
Love, when I call. —
Thro' waves that white and whirling move,
Each wave a wall?"

She girt her raiment to her knee;
She left the barren cliffs behind,
And to the sea
She set her face right silently.
"Love, I am blind,
Oh, guide me as I come to thee,
Clothed with the wind:

"Blind with the force of beaten foam;
Blind with the driven rain and sleet, —
O love, I come!
O love, await me in thy home;
Love guide my feet!"
She spake no more; her lips grew dumb, —
Red lips and sweet.