Handful of lavender / Lizette Woodworth Reese [electronic text]

THE DEAD SHIP

A KELTIC LEGEND.

THE ship came sailing, sailing, Into our old town— My love combed out her golden hair; It fell to the hem of her gown. Oh, my heart, break!

No master and no crew was hers, A ship of the dead was she, And sailing, sailing, sailing— The folk ran out to see. Oh, my heart, break!

And first they said nor yea, nor nay; Then some began to weep; And some did count their little lads, As a shepherd counts his sheep. Oh, my heart, break!

Oh, sailing, sailing, sailing— "Whom will it be?" said they; "She never sails to this our town But one doth go away." Oh, my heart, break!

"Yea, one will go from this our town And come back nevermore; Whate'er His will, Lord God is good;" Thus I at my love's door. Oh, my heart, break!

Thereat I turned into the house And climbed up my love's stair, And called her softly—through the dusk I saw her golden hair. Oh, my heart, break!

Who went away from our old town And came back nevermore? It was my love; she lay there dead Upon the chamber floor. Oh, my heart break!