Sing to me Lady, as you Carry me Home Sing to me Girl As you Race O'er the Foam Talk to me Lover As the waves Make you shudder Cry out with Joy When the Helm Moves the Rudder The crest from Your Bow laugh "long the Hull The trace of Your wake Like the Flight Of a Gull The wind in The Sails Carry us on The line of your Flight Is True on for Home Sing to me Girl My Mistress, My Siren Whisper my Love As the shore rushes near. Sing to me Darlin' With a Voice Crystal clear A voice in my mind That only I hear
No I wrote that to-day sitting up on the roof watching the sails on the Lake.
When I had my Shark she would sing and talk to me for hours and if I made a mistake while sailing she would scold me but she always forgave. She was my Love.
Thanks my friend. The day I lost my boat to a lien for storage payments I cried like baby. It was like some tore my heart out.
David
Dave; You know once my wife and I were invited to crew on a 42 foot Yawl, hailing from New England, to work the boat sailing off the coast of Main. The craft itself was a sight to see. Having originally been built for the play write, Arthur Miller, and I have to say, that, that was eight of the best days of my life. And I’m proud to say that the caption said as we were going ashore, that I had become a good For Deck man…since they hadn’t loose me.
Anyway Dave, I can only imagine how you must feel. JC
. And I’m proud to say that the caption said as we were going ashore, that I had become a good For Deck man…since they hadn’t loose me.
JC.
When I crewed for my best friend on his 36 foot Elite in races I was foredeck Captain and I know what it means to have good men on deck with you. So good for you.
Just looking at this poem now . . . It's beautiful, with the beauty of directness. Something even in the way you made the lines leaps forward like the lover you are describing. It's some Kipling in you coming out, to make the poem move and ring like the thing itself.
Just looking at this poem now . . . It's beautiful, with the beauty of directness. Something even in the way you made the lines leaps forward like the lover you are describing. It's some Kipling in you coming out, to make the poem move and ring like the thing itself.
stoirmeol;
Thank you for the comparision but you do Rudyard a grave injustice I am not nor would I dare aspire to be such a poet.