Down by the harbour-mouth that day. A fisher told the tale to me. Three months before, while out at sea, Young Philip Burn was lost, though how, None knew, and none would ever know. The boat becalmed at noonday lay ... And not a ripple on the sea ... And Philip standing in the bow, When his six comrades went below To sleep away an hour or so, Dog-tired with working day and night, While he kept watch ... and not a sound They heard, until, at set of sun They woke; and coming up they found The deck was empty, Philip gone ... Yet not another boat in sight ... And not a ripple on the sea. How he had vanished, none could tell. They only knew the lad was dead They'd left but now, alive and well ... And he, poor fellow, newly-wed ... And when they broke the news to her, She spoke no word to anyone: But sat all day, and would not stir-- Just staring, staring in the fire, With eyes that never seemed to tire; Until, at last, the day was done, And darkness came; when she would rise, And seek the door with queer, wild eyes; And wander singing all the night Unearthly songs beside the sea: But always the first blink of light Would find her back at her own door. 'Twas Winter when I came once more To that old village by the shore; And as, at night, I climbed the street, I heard a singing, low and sweet, Within a cottage near at hand: And I was glad awhile to stand And listen by the glowing pane: And as I hearkened, that sweet strain Brought back the night when I had lain Awake on Devil's Edge ... And now I knew the voice again, So different, free of pain and fear-- Its terror turned to tenderness-- And yet the same voice none the less, Though singing now so true and clear: And drawing nigh the window-ledge, I watched the mother sing to rest The baby snuggling to her breast. * * * * * D.H. LAWRENCE SNAP-DRAGON She bade me follow to her garden where The mellow sunlight stood as in a cup Between the old grey walls; I did not dare To raise my face, I did not dare look up Lest her bright eyes like sparrows should fly in My windows of discovery and shrill 'Sin!' So with a downcast mien and laughing voice I followed, followed the swing of her white dress That rocked in a lilt along: I watched the poise Of her feet as they flew for a space, then paused to press The grass deep down with the royal burden of her: And gladly I'd offered my breast to the tread of her. 'I like to see,' she said, and she crouched her down, She sunk into my sight like a settling bird; And her bosom couched in the confines of her gown Like heavy birds at rest there, softly stirred By her measured breaths: 'I like to see,' said she, 'The snap-dragon put out his tongue at me.'