It seemed a paradox, that she whose placid days Were anchored by four walls, and garden paths ... Prim rows of hollyhocks, delphinium and phlox, And the tranquil tenor of domestic verities, Should mother a storm-tossed lad, who "must away", Following the salt-tides and the flying spray, Compassed by stars ... the rolling deck, his home. "Is it not strange", in wonderment men asked, "That son of hers should sail before the mast?" Her answer held the flash of gull-swept skies, For all the magic of the seven seas Shone from her eyes! |