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WIDOW WITH A SHAWL

DONOVAN

Dear wind that shakes the barley free,
Blow home my true love's ship to me, fill her sails.
I a-weary wait upon the shore.

Forsake her not in times of storm,
Protect her oaken beams from harm, fill her sails.
I a-weary wait upon the shore.

Whether he be in Africa
Or deep asleep in India, fill his dreams,
I a-weary wait upon the shore.

Dear snow white gulls upon the wing,
I, like you, are lamenting, for my love.
I a-weary wait upon the shore.

And in my chariot of sleep,
I ride the vast and dreamy deep, deep sea.
I awake a-weary on the shore.

For seven years and seven days,
No man has seen my woman's ways, dear God.
I a-weary cry upon the shore.

Along the shingle beach I go,
The wind about me as I make my way,
To my weary dream upon my bed.

Dear wind that shakes the barley free,
Blow home my true love's ship to me, fill her sails.
I a-weary wait upon the shore.
I a-weary wait upon the shore.