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| THE HANDSTAND | MARCH 2003 |
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.THE JEANIE JOHNSTON SETS SAIL FROM FENIT HARBOUR
SpringtideCrichton E M Miller© 1992 Waves and wind heave and sigh, Sea birds wheel above and cry, this bonny ship her warps untie, to catch the tide this morning, Folk ashore sleep like the dead, Tired the milkman, home to bed, A seal on rocks turns his head, As we slide toward the dawning. Ropes and fenders neatly stowed, Sheets and tackle take the load, Distant lights on a landlocked road, A gale blown swell is rolling. Her canvass white on leaden sky, Head sails thunder up on high. Hard on the breeze and the burgees fly, The Power , the strength and freedom. Spray plumes up as she displaces, Water, waves and roaring races, A school of dolphins take their places, Riding on the bow wave. Graceful Gannets circle in, Try to spy a glittered fin, Arrow down with folded wing, To breakfast on the harvest. Ease the sheets now, off the wind, Running free before the scend, This ancient craft, she is my friend And we will share the season. Oh! what joy for she and I, Away from land, beneath the sky, Close to God, the spirits high, Fills our Soul with wonder. Down below and out of sight, On polished teak, with brasses bright, A small oil lamp will give the light, This evening when we slumber. No law should pass to take away, The right for Man to dream and play, In the wild vast sea, where we can say, We truly, still know freedom.
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