Widow With a Shawl (A Portrait)

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.