John Heaton (jheaton) wrote,
John Heaton

Poet's Corner: The Schooner Ellenmore

I got nothin' today. so here's a poem.

The Schooner Ellenmore

The first time I saw Ellenmore, it was on a southeast wind
Against the loom of the coming storm I saw her topsail gleam
Her lines were long and lovely as she stood in from the bay
And I stood on the dragger's deck and gave my heart away.

She rounded up and ran her chain, her gear was stowed and furled
I saw but two upon her deck, an old man and a girl
As I rowed by they hailed me, and we passed the time of day
And spoke of the wind and the holding ground, and how their schooner lay.

The next day blowing cold and grey, they hailed me once again;
I went on board to drink their tea and talk and watch the rain.
The schooner old and graceful, and built for any weather
And they were kind and gentle folks, the young girl and her father.

I walked the island with the girl, I watched it take her heart;
This land is kind in the summertime, tho summer months are short:
The sudden hill, the quiet coves, the meadows in the rain
The gentle grace of fir and spruce when snow and wind are gone.

Her hair was brown, her hands were brown, her face was brown and wise,
I watched her place her quiet feet and felt her quiet eyes,
For I had been a lonely man with neither laugh nor song
And each year since my Janey died was twelve Novembers long.

Back on board that evening, in the schooner's warm saloon
We spoke of boats and harbors and the islands we had known.
They said they'd searched for years to find a place to spend their days
And here they'd found their paradise – the island and its ways.

The wind was in the mastheads and the seas were hissing by
And oh. the wine and song that night will hold me till I die
And as I stepped o'er the schooner's rail she took me by the hand
And I told her I would bless the tide that brought her here again.

But oh, the months that followed were a weary weight to bear
For I knew I'd been above myself when the wine was flowing fair
To think she'd ever want a man who made a pauper's wage
Much less a simple fisherman, and half again her age.

The next time I saw Ellenmore it was Autumn, cold and wet;
She come swinging up the outer bay with just her lowers set,
But I couldn't bear their kindness, nor could I forget my shame,
And I hope the wine had been so kind they'd not recall my name.

So I swung out past the harbor ledge and drove on down the sound
And hoped they'd never know me from the other boats around,
But as I passed, I saw the girl come out on deck to stand
And across the moving water she lifted up her hand.

The next time I saw Ellenmore, it was in the early May
And four long years had hauled their tides since she had passed this way
I saw the old man on her deck, and he sailed her all alone
As past the island's shoulder her threadbare mainsail swing.

He rounded up and ran his chain, his movements slow and spare
And late that day I rowed across, another meal to share.
The boat was old, the man was old, the years had had their way;
He asked me if I liked my life, and I had naught to say.

I asked him of his daughter, but he only shook his head:
"She wed a Corporation-Man; she chose her life," he said,
"She might have had a simple man, her simple love to share.
She saw you go out by the ledge: that broke her heart for fair."

The last time I saw Ellenmore, she was standing out to sea,
All plain sail on a Northeast wind, her mainsheet running free.
The old man stood beside her wheel, to me he raised his hand,
And I stood on the dragger's deck and watch the day go down.

Gordon Bok (born 1939)

Tags: poet's corner, song lyrics

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