Seven Times Seven. Longing For Home.

I.         A song of a boat: -     There was once a boat on a billow:     Lightly she rocked to her port remote,     And the foam was white in her wake like snow,     And her frail mast bowed when the breeze would blow     And bent like a wand of willow.     II.     I shaded mine eyes one day when a boat     Went curtseying over the billow,     I marked her course till a dancing mote     She faded out on the moonlit foam,     And I stayed behind in the dear loved home;     And my thoughts all day were about the boat,     And my dreams upon the pillow.     III.     I pray you hear my song of a boat,     For it is but short: -     My boat, you shall find none fairer afloat,     In river or port.     Long I looked out for the lad she bore,     On the open desolate sea,     And I think he sailed to the heavenly shore,     For he came not back to me -         Ah me!     IV.         A song of a nest: -     There was once a nest in a hollow:     Down in the mosses and knot-grass pressed,     Soft and warm, and full to the brim -     Vetches leaned over it purple and dim,     With buttercup buds to follow.     V.     I pray you hear my song of a nest,     For it is not long: -     You shall never light, in a summer quest     The bushes among -     Shall never light on a prouder sitter,     A fairer nestful, nor ever know     A softer sound than their tender twitter     That wind-like did come and go.     VI.     I had a nestful once of my own,     Ah happy, happy I!     Right dearly I loved them: but when they were grown     They spread out their wings to fly -     O, one after one they flew away     Far up to the heavenly blue,     To the better country, the upper day,     And - I wish I was going too.     VII.     I pray you, what is the nest to me,     My empty nest?     And what is the shore where I stood to see     My boat sail down to the west?     Can I call that home where I anchor yet,     Though my good man has sailed?     Can I call that home where my nest was set,     Now all its hope hath failed?     Nay, but the port where my sailor went,     And the land where my nestlings be:     There is the home where my thoughts are sent,     The only home for me -          Ah me!