Norseman's Wife

NORSEMAN’S WIFE Mist holds the river in grey wreaths soft, Longboat grounded and men wade. Into the dull white nothing aloft Half the sail starts to fade. Whales blow in the misty swells Grey and enormous they dive and sing. O, for a hilly flood of bluebells And a wife’s hair soft in the spring. As she works with the sheep And the lambs just new, She gazes out to the deep, Singing softly into the morning blue.