"Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair—

A tress of golden hair,

A drowned maiden's hair

Above the nets at sea?

Was never salmon yet that shone so fair
Among the stakes on Dee."

They rowed her in across the rolling foam,

The cruel crawling foam,

The cruel hungry foam,

To her grave beside the sea:

But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home

Across the sands of Dee!

Charles Kingsley [1819-1875]

THE THREE FISHERS

THREE fishers went sailing away to the West,

Away to the West as the sun went down;

Each thought on the woman who loved him the best,
And the children stood watching them out of the town;

For men must work, and women must weep,
And there's little to earn, and many to keep,
Though the harbor bar be moaning.

Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower

And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down; They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower, And the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown.

But men must work, and women must weep,
Though storms be sudden, and waters deep,
And the harbor bar be moaning.

Three corpses lay out on the shining sands

In the morning gleam as the tide went down,
And the women are weeping and wringing their hands
For those who will never come home to the town;
For men must work, and women must weep,
And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep;

And good-by to the bar and its moaning.

Charles Kingsley [1819-1875]

The Northern Star

1575

BALLAD

IN the summer even,

While yet the dew was hoar, I went plucking purple pansies,

Till my love should come to shore. The fishing-lights their dances

Were keeping out at sea,

And come, I sung, my true love!

Come hasten home to me!

But the sea, it fell a-moaning,

And the white gulls rocked thereon;

And the young moon dropped from heaven,

And the lights hid one by one.

All silently their glances

Slipped down the cruel sea,

And wait! cried the night and wind and storm,—

Wait, till I come to thee!

Harriet Prescott Spofford [1835

THE NORTHERN STAR

A TYNEMOUTH SHIP

THE Northern Star

Sailed over the bar

Bound to the Baltic Sea;

In the morning gray

She stretched away:―

'Twas a weary day to me!

For many an hour

In sleet and shower

By the lighthouse rock I stray;

And watch till dark

For the winged bark

Of him that is far away.

The castle's bound

I wander round,

Amidst the grassy graves:
But all I hear

Is the north wind drear,

And all I see are the waves.

The Northern Star

Is set afar!

Set in the Baltic Sea:

And the waves have spread

The sandy bed

That holds my Love from me.

Unknown

THE FISHER'S WIDOW

THE boats go out and the boats come in

Under the wintry sky;

And the rain and foam are white in the wind,

And the white gulls cry.

She sees the sea when the wind is wild

Swept by a windy rain;

And her heart's a-weary of sea and land

As the long days wane.

She sees the torn sails fly in the foam,

Broad on the sky-line gray;

And the boats go out and the boats come in,

But there's one away.

Arthur Symons [1865

CALLER HERRIN'

Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?

They're bonny fish and halesome farin';

Wha'll buy my caller herrin',

New drawn frae the Forth?

When ye were sleepin' on your pillows,
Dreamed ye aught o' our puir fellows,

Caller Herrin'

Darkling as they faced the billows,
A' to fill the woven willows?

Buy my caller herrin',

New drawn frae the Forth!

Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?

1577

They're no brought here without brave darin';
Buy my caller herrin',

Hauled through wind and rain.

Wha'll buy my caller herrin',

New drawn frae the Forth?

Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?
Oh, ye may ca' them vulgar farin';
Wives and mithers, maist despairin',
Ca' them lives o' men.

Wha'll buy my caller herrin',
New drawn frac the Forth?

When the creel o' herrin' passes,

Ladies, clad in silks and laces,
Gather in their braw pelisses,

Cast their heads, and screw their faces.
Wha'll buy my caller herrin',
New drawn frae the Forth?

Caller herrin's no got lightly:-
Ye can trip the spring fu' tightlie;
Spite o' tauntin', flauntin', flingin',
Gow has set you a' a-singin'

"Wha'li buy my caller herrin',
New drawn frae the Forth?"

Neebor wives! now tent my tellin':
When the bonny fish ye're sellin',
At ae word be, in ye're dealin'!

Truth will stand, when a' thing's failin'!

Wha'll buy my caller herrin',

New drawn frae the Forth?

Carolina Nairne [1766-1845]

HANNAH BINDING SHOES

POOR lone Hannah,

Sitting at the window, binding shoes:
Faded, wrinkled,

Sitting, stitching, in a mournful muse.
Bright-eyed beauty once was she,
When the bloom was on the tree;-
Spring and winter,

Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Not a neighbor

Passing, nod or answer will refuse
To her whisper,

"Is there from the fishers any news?"
Oh, her heart's adrift with one
On an endless voyage gone;—
Night and morning,

Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Fair young Hannah,

Ben, the sunburnt fisher, gaily wooes;
Hale and clever,

For a willing heart and hand he sues.
May-day skies are all aglow,

And the waves are laughing so!
For her wedding

Hannah leaves her window and her shoes.

May is passing;

'Mid the apple-boughs a pigeon cooes: Hannah shudders,

For the mild south-wester mischief brews. Round the rocks of Marblehead, Outward bound, a schooner sped; Silent, lonesome,

Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

'Tis November:

Now no tear her wasted cheek bedews,
From Newfoundland

Not a sail returning will she lose,