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Katherine Mansfield - Sea Song
Work rating: Medium

I will think no more of the sea! 
Of the big green waves 
And the hollowed shore, 
Of the brown rock caves 
No more, no more 
Of the swell and the weed
And the bubbling foam. 

Memory dwells in my far away home, 
She has nothing to do with me. 

She is old and bent 
With a pack 
On her back. 
Her tears all spent, 
Her voice, just a crack. 
With an old thorn stick 
She hobbles along,
And a crazy song 
Now slow, now quick, 
Wheeks in her throat. 

And every day
While there`s light on the shore 
She searches for something; 
Her withered claw 
Tumbles the seaweed; 
She pokes in each shell 
Groping and mumbling
Until the night 
Deepens and darkens, 
And covers her quite, 
And bids her be silent, 
And bids her be still. 

The ghostly feet 
Of the whispery waves
Tiptoe beside her. 
They follow, follow 
To the rocky caves 
In the white beach hollow . . . 
She hugs her hands, 
She sobs, she shrills, 
And the echoes shriek 
In the rocky hills. 
She moans: "It is lost! 
Let it be! Let it be! 
I am old. I`m too cold. 
I am frightened . . . the sea 
Is too loud . . . it is lost,
It is gone . . . Memory 
Wails in my far away home.
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