How can I laugh or dance as others do,
Or ply my rock or reel?
My heart will still return to dreams of you
Beside my spinning-wheel.
My little dog he cried out in the dark,
He would not whisht for me
I took him to my side—why did he bark
When you were on the sea?
I fear the red cock—if he crow to-night—
I keep him close and warm,
'Twere ill with me, if he should wake in fright
And you out in the storm.
I dare not smile for fear my laugh would ring
Across your dying ears;
O, if you, drifting, drowned, should hear me sing
And think I had not tears!
I never thought the sea could wake such waves,
Nor that such winds could be;
I never wept when other eyes grew blind
For some one on the sea.
But now I fear and pray all things for you,
How many dangers be!
I set my wheel aside, what can I do
When you are on the sea?