THE sea has furrows But no ploughman's tracks. What will be sown there? Stout fishing-smacks, Sailors with hazel eyes And hair like flax, Men who loved too well the sea's lore. What will they reap there From this strange seed? Tears salter than the frost On the seaweed, Widows of the water's toll, Of the storm's greed -- Old widows who will love no more. When the sea is turned Like cold, ploughed loam There's weeping and wailing In every sailor's home. What will the drag-net Bring in its comb? Sad are the vigils on the shore. Call the sailor's wives Back from the farms Where tired women sleep In strong men's arms, And they'll go weeping For the sea's alarms And nights of waiting on the shore. Those who love to spin Will keep to their spinning, Saints to their prayers, Sinners to their sinning, Every one to the track Where they made beginning: Strange are mortal souls forevermore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WAR THAT ISN'T WHAT YOU THINK by JAMES GALVIN HER EYES TWIN POOLS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE RING AND THE CASTLE by AMY LOWELL THE BLIND by EDGAR LEE MASTERS GENEVIEVE AND ALEXANDRA (2) by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON MERLIN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |