BASED ON THE GAELIC FEAR A’ BHÀTA

The year may change its time,
But still I climb
The cliff above the sea,
And look with eyes half dim with rain,
To know if God has brought again
My lover back to me.

When darkness downward glides
And slowly hides
The fading hills of blue,
I never bar the cottage door
Without one look across the moor,
A look of hope for you.

Sometimes when I am free
I seek the quay
Soon after break of day,
And find a newly harboured boat,
And ask if you are still afloat
Near home or far away.

I ask if you are well,
And they can tell
My heart is set on you:
And then they call me just a fool,
A baby in the world’s hard school
To give you love so true.

You promised me silk gowns
From Lowland towns,
And rings of twisted gold;
And, best of all, your picture bound
With stones to hem its beauty round
That I might kiss and hold.

My love is not the flower
Of one short hour;
You were my childhood’s pride;
Your image is my dream by night,
By day if ever put to flight
It comes back like the tide.

The swan upon the lake
When robbers take
Her young, is left to moan;
None tends her wounds or heeds her cry,
She wails her loss and waits to die:
Like her I cry alone.