The HOUSE-TOP Walk. Weather-stained and beaten and empty now. The long, long vigil oer; No longer the ships go out to sea. And the watchers wait no more; Sailors and watchers are resting now, Some on this sandy lea, And some, with the sea-grass round them twined. A re asleep in the wandering sea. But it comes to me as I walk the street Ofthe quaint, historic town, A vision these scenes have looked upon In the years so long agone A vision of struggle with storm and tide. By the brave ones, called to roam On the wrathful way of the ocean wide; And a vision of love at home. On the house-top walk in the morning gray. And yet in the deepening night. They watch for the flash of a homeward sail. Or the swing of a mast-head light. It is mom again, and again tis eve. So the days drag one by one. And the steadfast thing in the changeful scene Is the love that will have its own. So the hair grows gray, and the faces thin. For the sea is empty still; And the lonely years will have their way. And God will have His will. But the watch iso er. What matters now Though the ships drift endlessly, Though some are asleep in the graveyard there. And some in the wandering sea? Charles L. Thotnpson. (Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)
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