Mother Earth, who bred us stalwart,
Bred us lusty, bred us free,
She hath spread her nets to take us,
She has lured us warily
To the wind across the open,
And the restless, roaming sea.
She hath sent her winds to whisper
Of the far lands whence they roam,
Sent her shouting storms to call us
From the green field of our home,
With a dream of far wild places
And the roving, racing foam.
She hath sung to us divinely
In the moaning of her tides,
Of some ship that waits our coming, —
That for us at anchor rides, —
Set us longing for the sea-song
Of the wave-wash on her sides.
By the roving hearts within us
Hers for good and ill are we,
By the vigour she hath sent us
Hers while youth and strength shall be, —
Bondsmen of the boundless open
And the restless, roaming sea.
Notes
From MEN OF MEN, by Cicely Fox Smith, published by Sampson Low, Marston & Co., London, UK, © 1900, pp. 95-96.
This poem seems one of the first precursors of the nautical poems to come.
Charley Noble
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Comments
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Miss Fox Smith obviously heard her call
To the wind across the open,
And the restless, roaming sea.
As her later life and writing so clearly shows.
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