He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blue
As the summer meeting of sky and sea,
And the ruddy cliffs have a colder hue
Than flushed his cheek when he married me.
We passed the porch where the swallows breed,
We left the little brown church behind,
And I leaned on his arm though I had no need,
Only to feel him so strong and kind.
One thing I never can quite forget--
It grips my throat when I try to pray--
The keen salt smell of a drying net
That hung on the churchyard wall that day.
He would have taken a long, long grave--
A long, long grave, for he stood so tall....
Oh, God--the crash of the breaking wave,
And the smell of the nets on the churchyard wall!
_The Bellman_ _Amelia Josephine Burr_