Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE POET'S JOURNAL: ON THE HEADLAND, by BAYARD TAYLOR

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THE POET'S JOURNAL: ON THE HEADLAND, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: I sit on the lonely headland
Last Line: Or weep to see me dead!
Alternate Author Name(s): Taylor, James Bayard
Subject(s): Hearts; Kisses; Love; Sea; Sea Gulls; Ocean

I SIT on the lonely headland,
Where the sea-gulls come and go:
The sky is gray above me,
And the sea is gray below.

There is no fisherman's pinnace
Homeward or outward bound;
I see no living creature
In the world's deserted round.

I pine for something human,
Man, woman, young or old, --
Something to meet and welcome,
Something to clasp and hold.

I have a mouth for kisses,
But there's no one to give and take
I have a heart in my bosom
Beating for nobody's sake.

O warmth of love that is wasted!
Is there none to stretch a hand?
No other heart that hungers
In all the living land?

I could fondle the fisherman's baby,
And rock it into rest;
I could take the sunburnt sailor,
Like a brother, to my breast.

I could clasp the hand of any
Outcast of land or sea,
If the guilty palm but answered
The tenderness in me!

The sea might rise and drown me, --
Cliffs fall and crush my head, --
Were there one to love me, living,
Or weep to see me dead!

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