The Cool, Grey City of Love
Tho I die on a distant strand,
And they give me a grave in that land,
- Yet carry me back to my own city!
- Carry me back to her grace and pity!
For I think I could not rest
Afar from her mighty breast.
She is fairer than others are
- Whom they sing the beauty of.
Her heart is a song and a star--
- My cool, grey city of love.
Tho they tear the rose from her brow,
To her is ever my vow;
- Ever to her I give my duty--
- First in rapture and first in beauty,
Wayward, passionate, brave,
Glad of the life God gave.
The sea-winds are her kiss,
- And the sea-gull is her dove.
Cleanly and strong she is--
- My cool, grey city of love.
The winds of the Future wait
At the iron walls of her Gate,
- And the western ocean breaks in thunder,
- And the western stars go slowly under,
And her gaze is ever West
In the dream of her young unrest.
Her sea is a voice that calls,
- And her star a voice above,
And her wind a voice on her walls--
- My cool, grey city of love.
Tho they stay her feet at the dance,
In her is the far romance.
- Under the rain of winter falling,
- Vine and rose will await recalling.
Tho the dark be cold and blind,
Yet her sea-fog's touch is kind,
And her mightier caress
- Is joy and the pain thereof;
And great is thy tenderness,
- O cool, grey city of love!