 section one of ballads of lost haven this LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Sean Michael Hogan ballads of lost haven by Bliss Kerman section one a son of the sea I was born for deep seafaring I was bred to put to sea stories of my father's daring filled me at my mother's knee I was sired among the surges I was cubbed beside the foam all my heart is in its verges and the sea wind is my home all my boyhood from far vernal borns of being came to me dream-like plangent and eternal memories of the plunging sea the grave digger oh the shambling sea is a sexton old and well his work is done with an equal grave for Lord and nave he buries them every one then hoy and rip with a rolling hip he makes for the nearest shore and God who sent him a thousand ship will send him a thousand more but some he'll save for a bleaching grave and shoulder them in to shore shoulder them in shoulder them in shoulder them in to shore oh the ships of grease and the ships of tire went out and where are they in the port they made they are delayed with the ships of yesterday he followed the ships of England far as the ships of long ago and the ships of France they led him a dance but he laid them all a row oh a loafing idle lubber to him is the sexton of the town for shore and swift with a guiding lift he shovels the dead men down but though he delves so fierce and grim his honest graves are wide as well they know who sleep below the dredge of the deepest tide oh he works with a rollicking stave at lip and loud as the chorus scurled with the burly rote of his rumbling throat he batters it down the world he learned it once in his father's house where the ballads of elde were sung and merry enough is the burden rough but no man knows the tongue oh fair they say was his bride to see and willful she must have been that she could bide at his gruesome side when the first red dawn came in and sweet they say is her kiss to those she greets to his border home and softer than sleep her hands first sweep that beckons and they come oh crooked is he but strong enough to handle the tallest mast from the royal bark to the slaver dark he buries them all at last then hoye and rip with a rolling hip he makes for the nearest shore and god who sent him a thousand ship will send him a thousand more but some he'll say for a bleaching grave and shoulder them into shore shoulder them in shoulder them in shoulder them in to shore the yule guest and diana by the yule log sat in the empty hall and watched the goblin firelight caper upon the wall the goblins of the hearthstone who teach the wind to sing who dance the frozen yule away and usher back the spring the goblins of the northland who teach the gulls to scream who dance the autumn into dust the ages into dream like the tall corn was yanna bending and smooth and fair his yanna of the sea gray eyes and harvest yellow hair child of the low-voiced people who dwell among the hills she had the lonely calm and poise of life that waits and wills only tonight a little with grave regard she smiled remembering the morning she woke and ceased to be a child outside the ghostly rempikes those armies of the moon stood while the ranks of stars drew on to that more spacious noon while over them in silence waved on the dusk afar the gold flags of the northern light streaming with ancient war and when below the headland of the riders of the foam up from the misty border road the wild gray horses home and woke the wintry mountains with thunder on the shore out of the night there came a weird and cried at yanna's door oh yanna adriana they buried me away in the blue fathoms of the deep beyond the outer bay but in the yule oh yanna up from the round dim sea and reeling dungeons of the fog I am come back to thee the wind slept in the forest the moon was white and high only the shifting snow awoke to hear the yule guest cry oh yanna yanna yanna be quick and let me in for bitter is the trackless way and far that I have been then yanna by the yule log starts from her dream to hear a voice that bids her brooding heart shudder with joy and fear the wind is up a moment and whistles at the eaves and in his troubled iron dream the ocean moans and heaves she trembles at the door lock that he has come again and freeze the wooden bolt for one no barrier could detain oh garvin bonnie garvin so late so late you come the yule log crumbles down and throws strange figures on the gloom but in the moonlight pouring through the half open door stands the gray guest of yule and casts no shadow on the floor the change that is upon him she knows not in her haste about him her strong arms with glad impetuous tears are laced she's lit him to the fireside and set the wide oak chair and with her warm hands brushed away the sea rhyme from his hair oh garvin I have waited I've watched the red sun sink and clouds of sail come flocking in over the world's gray brink with stories of encounter on plank and mast and spar but never the brave bark I launched and waved across the bar how come you so unsignaled when I have watched so well where rides the adriana with my name on boat and bell oh yana golden yana the adriana lies with the sea dredging through her ports the white sand through her eyes and strange unearthly creatures make marvel of her hull where far below the gulfs of storm there is eternal lull oh yana adriana this midnight I am here because one night of all my life at yule tide of the year with the stars white in heaven and peace upon the sea with all my world in your white arms you gave yourself to me for that one night my yana within the dying year was it not well to love and now can it be well to fear oh garvin there is heartache in tales that are half told but all thy cheek is pale tonight and thy poor hands are cold tell me the course the voyage the ports and the new stars did the long rollers make green surf on the white reefs and bars oh yana adriana though easily I found the set of those uncharted tides in seas no line could sound and made without a pilot the port without a light no log keeps tally of the knots that I have sailed tonight it fell about mid-april the trades were holding free we drove her till the scuppers hissed and buried in the lee oh yana adriana loose hands and let me go the night grows red along the east and in the shifting snow I hear my shipmates calling sent out to search for me in the pale lands beneath the moon along the troubling sea oh garvin bonnie garvin what is the booming sound of canvas and the piping shrill as when a ship comes round it is the shadow bosson piping his hands to bend the looming sails on giant yards aboard the no man's friend she sails for sunken harbour and ports of yesteryear the turn or shrilling in the lift the low wind gates are clear oh yana adriana the little while is done that wilt behold the brightening sea freshen before the sun and many a morning redden the dark hill slopes of pine but I must sail hull down tonight below the gray sea line I shall not hear the snowbirds their morning litany for when the dawn comes over dale I must put out to see oh garvin bonnie garvin to have the as I will I would that never more on earth the dawn came over hill then on the snowy pillow her hair about her face he laid her in the quiet room and wiped away all trace of tears from the poor eyelids that were so sad for him and soothed her into sleep at last as the great stars grew dim tender as april twilight he sang and the song grew vague as the dreams which roam about this world of dust and dew oh yana adriana dear love look forth to see and all year long until the yule dear heart keep watch for me oh yana adriana I hear the calling sea and the folk telling tales among the hills where I would be oh yana adriana over the hills of sea the wind calls and the morning comes and I must forth from thee but yana adriana keep watch above the sea and when the weary time is or dear life come back to me oh garvin bonnie garvin she murmurs in her dream and smiles a moment in her sleep to hear the white gulls scream then with the storm foreboding far in the dim gray south he kissed her not upon the cheek nor on the burning mouth but once above the forehead before he turned away and air the morning light stole in that golden lock was gray oh yana adriana the wind moans to the sea and down the sluices of the dawn a shadow drifts a lee the mooring of malin won the merry makers among the wintry mountains beside the northern sea there is a merry making as old as old can be over the river reaches over the wastes of snow halting at every doorway the white drifts come and go they scour upon the open and mass along the wood the burliest invaders that ever man withstood with swoop and whorl and scurry these riders of the drift will mount and wheel and column and pass into the lift all night upon the marshes you hear their tread go by and all night long the streamers are dancing on the sky their light in malin's chamber is pale upon the floor and malin of the mountains is theirs forever more she fancies them a people in saffron and in green dancing for her for malin is only seventeen out there beyond her window from frosty deep to deep her heart is dancing with them until she falls asleep then all night long through heaven with stately two and fro to music of no measure the gorgeous dancers go the stars are great and splendid barrel and gold and blue and there are dreams from malin that never will come true yet for one golden yuletide their royal guest is she among the wintry mountains beside the northern sea to a sailor's wedding there is a norland laddie who sails the round sea rim and malin of the mountains is all the world to him the master of the snowflake bound upward from the line he smothers her with canvas along the crumbling brine he crowds her till she buries and shudders from his hand for in the angry sunset the watch has sighted land and he will brook no gainsay who goes to meet his bride but their will is the wind's will who traffic on the tide make home my bunny schooner the sun goes down to light the gusty crimson wind halls against the wedding night she gathers up the distance and grows and veers and swings like any homing swallow with nightfall in her wings the wind's white sources glimmer with shining gusts of rain and in the ardeese country the spring comes back again it is the brooding april haunted and sad and dear when vanished things return not with the returning year only when evening purples the light in malin's dale with sound of brooks and robins by many a hidden trail with stir of lulling rivers along the forest floor the dream folk of the gloaming come back to malin's door the dusk is long and gracious and far up in the sky you hear the chimney swallows twitter and scurry by the hyacinths are lonesome and white in malin's room and out at sea the snowflake is driving through the gloom the whitecaps froth and freshen in squadrons of white surge they thunder on to ruin and smoke along the verge the lift is black above them the sea is murk below and down the world's wide border they perish as they go they comb and see then founder they mount and glimmer and flee amid the awful sobbing and quailing of the sea they sheet the flying schooner and foam from stem to stern till every yard of canvas is drenched from clue to urn and where they move uneasy chill is the light and pale there the skipper's daughters who dance before the gale they revel with the snowflake and down the close of day among the boisterous dancers she holds her dancing away and then the dark has kindled the harbour light alley with stars and wind and sea room upon the girly sea the storm gets up to windward to heave and clang and brawl the dancers of the open begin to moan and call the lure is in their dancing a weird is in their song the snow white skipper's daughters are stronger than the strong they love the norland sailor who dares the rough sea play their arms are white and splendid to beckon him away they promise him for kisses a moment at their lips to make before the morning the port of missing ships where men put in for shelter and dreams put forth again and the great sea winds follow the journey of the rain a bridle with no morrow no welling of old tears for him and no more tidings of the departed years for there of old were fashioned the chambers cool and dim in the eternal silence below the twilight's rim the borders of that country are slumbrous and wide and they are well who marry the fondlers of the tide within their arms immortal no mortal fear can be but malon of the mountains is fairer than the sea and so the scutting snowflake flies with the wind a stern and through the boating twilight are blown the shrilling turn the light is on the headland the harbour gate is wide but rolling in with ruin the fog is on the tide fate like a muffled steersman sails with that norland gloom the snowflake in the offing is neck and deck with doom ha ha my saucy cruiser crowd up your helm and run there'll be a merry making tomorrow in the sun a cloud of straining canvas a roar of breaking foam the snowflake and the sea drift are racing in for home her heart is dancing sureward but silently in pale the swift relentless phantom is hungering on her trail they scour and fly together until across the roar he signals for a pilot and death puts out from shore a moment malon's window is gleaming in the lee and then the ghost of wreckage upon the iron sea ah malon lay your forehead upon your folded arm and hear the grim marauder shake out the reefs of storm loud laughs the surly skipper to feel the fog drive in because a blue eyed sailor shall wed his kith and kin and the red dawn discover a rover spent for breath among the merry makers who fondle him to death and all the snowy sisters are dancing wild and grand for him whose broken beauty shall slacken to their hand they want on in their triumphant scurl at malon's plight lift up their hands in chorus and thunder to the night the gulls are driven inland but on the dancing tide the master of the snowflake is taken to his bride and there when daybreak yellows along the far sea plain the fresh and buoyant morning comes down the wind again the world is glad of april the gulls are wild with glee and malon on the headland alone looks out to sea once more that gray ship master smiles for the night is done and all his snow white daughters are dancing in the sun three the light on the marsh the year grows on to harvest the tawny lilies burn along the marsh and hillward the roads are sweet with fern all day the windless heaven pavilions the sea blue then twilight comes and drenches the sultry delves with dew the lone white star of evening comes out among the hills and in the darkling forest begin the whipper wills the fireflies that wander the hawks that flit and scream and all the wilding vagrants of summer dusk and dream have all their will and wreck not of any after thing inheriting no sorrow and no foreshadowing the wind forgets to whisper the pines forget to moan and malon of the mountains is there among her own malon whom grief nor wonder can trouble never more since that spring night the snowflake was wrecked beside her door and strange her cry went seaward once and her soul thereon with the vast lonely sea winds a wanderer was gone but she that patient beauty which is her body fair and yours on earth still lovely untenanted of care the folk down at the harbor pity from day to day with a god save you malon they bid her on her way she smiles poor feckless malon the knowing smile of those whom the two sudden vision god sometimes may disclose of his wild lurid world wreck has blinded with its sheen then with a fond insistence pathetic and serene they pass among their fellows for lost minds none can save bent on their single business and marvel why men rave now far away a sighing comes from the buried reef as though the sea were mourning above an ancient grief for once the restless mother of all the weary lands went down to him in beauty with trouble in her hands and gave to him forever all memory to keep but to her wayward children oblivion and sleep that no immortal burden might plague one living thing but death should sweetly visit us vagabonds of spring and so his heart forever goes inland with the tide searching with many voices among the marshes wide under the quiet starlight up through the stirring reeds with whispering and lamenting it rises and recedes all night the lapsing rivers croon to their shingly bars the wizardries that mingle the sea wind and the stars and all night long wherever the moving waters gleam the little hills harken harken the great hills here and dream and malon keeps the marshes all the sweet summer night alone foot free to follow a wandering wisp light for every day at sundown at the first beacons gleam she calls the gulls her brothers and keeps a trist with them oh gulls white gulls what see you beyond the sloping blue and where a ways the snowflake she's so long overdue then as the gloaming settles the hilltop stars emerge and watch that plaintive figure patrol the dark sea verge she follows the marsh fire her heart laughs and is glad she knows that light to seeward is her own sailor lad what are these tales they tell her of wreckage on the shore delay but makes his coming the nearer than before surely her eyes have sighted his schooner in the lift but the great tide he homes on sets with an outward drift so will of the wisp deludes her till dawn and she turns home in unperturbed assurance tomorrow he will come this is the tale of malon whom sudden grief so marred and still each lovely summer resumes that sweet regard the old unvext eternal indifference to pain the sea sings in the marshes and june comes back again all night the lapsing rivers lisp in the long dyke grass and many memories whisper the sea winds as they pass the tides disturb the silence but not a hindrance bars the wash of time where founder even the galleon stars and all night long wherever the moving waters gleam the little hills harken the great hills hear and dream the nancy's pride on the long slow heave of a lazy sea to the flap of an idle sail the nancy's pride went out on the tide and the skipper stood by the rail all down all down by the sleepy town with the hollyhocks a row in the little poppy gardens the sea had her in tow they let her slip by the breathing rip where the bell is never still and over the sounding harbour bar and under the harbour hill she melted into the dreaming noon out of the drowsy land in sight of a flag of goldy hair to the kiss of a girlish hand for the last who hailed the lad who sailed was who but his april bride and of all the fleet of grand latite her pride was the nancy's pride so the little vessel faded down with her creaking boom a swing dilla wind from the deep came up with a creep and caught her wing and wing she made for the lost horizon line where the clouds a castle delay while the boil and see the the open sea hung on her frothing way she lifted her hull like a breasting gull where the rolling valleys be and dipped where the shining porpoises put plowshares through the sea a fading sail on the far sea line about the turn of the tide as she made for the banks on her maiden cruise was the last of the nancy's pride today a boy with goldy hair in a garden of grand latite from his mother's knee looks out to sea for the coming of the fleet they all may home on a sleepy tide to the flap of the idle sail but it's never again the nancy's pride that answers a human hail they all may home on a sleepy tide to the sag of an idle sheet but it's never again the nancy's pride that draws men down the street on the banks tonight a fearsome sight the fishermen behold keeping the ghost watch in the moon when the small hours are cold when the light wind veers and the white fog clears they see by the after rail an unknown schooner creeping up with mildewed spar and sail her crew lean forth by the rotting shrouds with the judgment in their face and to their mates god save you have never a word of grace then into the gray they shear away on the awful polar tide and the sailors know they have seen the wreath of the missing nancy's pride arnold master of the scud there's a schooner out from kingsport through the morning's dazzle gleam snoring down the bay of fundy with a norther on her beam how the tough wind springs to wrestle when the tide is on the flood and between them stands young daring arnold master of the scud he is only martin's youngster to the minus coasting fleet twelve-year-old and full of satan as a nut is full of meat with a wake of froth behind him and the gold green waste before just as though the sea this morning were his boat pond by the door legs astral grips the tiller this young wave of the old sea when the wind comes harder only laughs hurrah and holds her free little wonder as you watch him with the dash in his blue eye long ago his father called him arnold master on the sly while his mother's heart foreboded reckless father makes rash sun so today the schooner carries just these two whose will is one now the wind grows moody shifting point by point into the east wing and wing the scud is flying with her scuppers full of east and the father's older wisdom on the sea line has described like a stealthy cloud bank making up to windward with the tide those tall navies of disaster the pale squadrons of the fog that maraud this gray world border without pilot chart or log ranging wanton as marooners from minot dee to manan heave to and will reef my master cries he when no will of man spills the fossil but a clumsy wind flaw with a hand like stone hurls the boom round in an instant arnold master there alone sees a crushed corpse shot to seaward with the gray doom in its face and the climbing foam receives it to its everlasting place what does arnold master think you whimper like a child for dread that's not arnold foulest weather strongest sailors ever bred and this slip of taut sea faring grows a man who throttles fear let the storm and dark in spite now do their worst with valor here not a reef and not a shiver while the wind jeers in her shrouds and the flouts of foam and sea fog swarm upon her deck in crowds flies the scud like a mad racer and with iron in his frown holding hard by roth and dread not arnold master rides her down let the taff rail shriek through foam heads let the licking seas go glut elsewhere their old hunger baffled arnold's making for the gut cleft sheer down the sea wall mountains give that one port on the coast made the basin lies in sunshine missed the little scud is lost come now foghorn let your warning rip the wind to starboard there suddenly that burly throated welcome plows the cumbered air the young master halls a little crowds are up and sheets her home heading for the narrow entry whence the safety signals come then the wind lulls and an eddy tells of ledges where away beers the scud sheet free sun breaking through the rifts and there's the bay like a bird in from the storm beat as the summer sun goes down slows the schooner to her moorings by the wharf at digby town all the world next morning wondered largest letters there it stood storm in fundy a boy's daring arnold master of the scud end of section one recording by shon michael hogan saint johns newfoundland canada section two of ballads of lost haven this is a liber fox recording all liber fox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit liber fox.org recording by shon michael hogan ballads of lost haven by bliss carmen section two the ships of saint john smile you inland hills and rivers flush you mountains in the dawn but my roving heart is seaward with the ships of gray saint john fair the land lies full of august meadow island shingley bar open barns and breezy twilight peace and the mild evening star gently now this gentlest country the old habitude takes on but my wintry heart is outbound with the great ships of saint john once in your wide arms you held me till the manchild was a man canada great nurse and mother of the young sea roving clan always your bright face above me through the dreams of boyhood shon now far alien countries call me with the ships of gray saint john swing you tides up out of fundy blow you white fogs in from sea i was born to be your fellow you were bred to pilot me me at the touch of your strong fingers doubt the derelict is gone sane and glad i clear the headland with the white ships of saint john loyalists my fathers builded this gray port of the gray sea when the duty two ideals could not let well being be when the breadth of scarlet bunting puts the wreath of maple on i must cheer to slip my moorings with the ships of gray saint john pureless hearted port of heroes be a word to lift the world till the many see the signal of the few once more unfurled past the lighthouse past the nun buoy past the crimson rising sun their dreams go down the harbor with the tall ships of saint john in the morning i am with them as they clear the island bar fade till speck by speck the midday has forgotten where they are but i sight a vaster sea line wider leeway longer run whose discoverers return not with the ships of gray saint john the king of east peace wild across the breton country fabled centuries ago riding from the black sea border came the squadrons of the snow piping dread at every latchhole moaning death at every sill the white yule came down in vengeance upon east and had its will walled and dreamy stood the city wide and dazzling shone the sea when the gods set mother east the pride of britney morning drenched her towers in purple light of heart were king and fool fair forbode the merry making of the seven days of yule laughed the king once more my mistress time and place and joy are one bade the balconies with banners match the splendor of the sun eyes of urchins shine with silver and with gold the pavement ring bade the warhorns that sound their bravest in the mistress of the king mount a banks and ballad mongers and all strolling traffickers should block up the market corners with none other name than hers laughed the fool today my folly thou shalt be the king of east a wise fool how long must wisdom under motley hold her peace then the storm came down the valleys wailed and ciphered to the dune like huge organ pipes a midnight stalked those gala streets at noon and the sea rose rocked and tilted like a beaker in the hand till the moon hung tide broke tether and stampeded in for land all day long with doom portentous shreds of pennons shrieked and flew over east and black fear shuttered on the hearth stone all night through fear which freezes up the marrow of the heart from door to door like a plague went through the city and filled up the devil's score filled her tally of the craven to the sea winds dismal note while a panic superstition took the people by the throat as with mourning still the sea rose with vast wreckage on the tide and their pasture rills grown rivers thundered in the mountainside vengeance vengeance gods to vengeance rose a storm of muttering and the human flood came pouring to the palace of the king save o king before we perish in the whirlpools of the sea east thy city us thy people growled the king then what would ye but his wolf's eyes talked defiance and his bearded mouth meant scorn o our king the gods are angry and no longer to be born is the shameless face that greets us from thy windows at thy side smiling infamy and therefore thou shalt take her up and ride down with her into the seas mouth and their lever else we die and thy name goes down to story a new word for cruelty ah but she was fair this woman warm and flaxen waved her hair her blue breton eyes made summer in that bleak december air there she stood whose burning beauty made the world's high roof tree ring a white poppy tall and windblown in the garden of the king her throat shook but not with terror her eyes swam but not with fear while her two arms caught and clung to the one man they had found dear lord and lover thus she smiled him her last word it shall be so only the seas arms shall hold me when from out thine arms I go swore he by the gods my mistress thou shall have queens burial pearls and amber shall thy tomb be shot with gold and green thy paul and a million throated chorus shall take up thy dirge tonight where thy slumbers starry watchfires shall a thousand years be bright then they brought the cold black stallion chafing on the bit a stride sprang the young king shouted way there caught the girl up to his side and a path through that scared rabble rode in pageant to the sea and the cold black mane was mingled with gold hair against his knee sure as the wild gulls make seaward from the west gate to the beach rode these two for whom now freedom landward lay beyond their reach and the great horse senting peril snorted at the flying spume flicked with courage as how often when the tides were racing doom ridden he had plunged to rescue from that seething icy hell some poor sailor wrecked a fishing on the coast what fears should quell that high spirit knee to shoulder king and stallion reared and sprang clear above the long white comers and that turmoil's iron clang what a launching for a moment while the tempest held its breath and a thousand eyes looked wonder swimming in that trough of death steering seward through the welter ere they settled out of sight waved above them one gold streamer valor bid the world good night not a trace while the long summers warm the heart of britney save one stone of ease as remnant for a white mark in the sea the kelpie riders one buried alive in comre shell six in a row by a crystal well all summer long on barrow fen slumber and sleep the kelpie men by the side of each to cheer his ghost a flagon of foam with a crumpet of frost hear me friends for the years are fleet soon i leave the noise and the street for the silent uncompanioned way where the inn is cold and the night is gray but noon is warm and the world is still where the kelpie riders have their will for never a wind dare stir or stray over those marshes salt and gray no bit of shade as big as your hand to traverse or trample the sleeping land save where a dozen poplars fleck the long gray grass and the wells blew back yet you mark their leaves are blanched and seer whispering daft at a nameless fear while round the hole of one is a rune black in the wash of the bleaching noon ride for the wind is awake and away sleep for the harvest grain is gray no word more and many a mile a ghostly bivouac rank and file they sleep today on the marshes wide some far night they will wake and ride once they were riders hot with speed kelpie kelpie gallop at need with hills of the barren sea to roam housing their horses on the foam but earth is cool and the hush is long beneath the lull of the slumber song the crickets falter and strive to tell to the dragonfly of the crystal well and love is a forgotten jest where the kelpie riders take their rest and blossoming grasses hour by hour burn in the bud and freeze in the flower but never again shall their roving be on the shifting hills of the tumbling sea with the salt and the rain and the glad desire strong as the wind and pure as fire two one doomful night in the april tide with a riot of brooks on the mountain side the goblin maidens of the hills went forth to the revel call of the rills many as leaves of the falling year to the swing of a ballad wild and clear they held the plane and the uplands high and the merry dancers held the sky the kelpie riders abroad on the sea caught sound of that call of eerie glee over their prairie waste and wan and the goblin maidens told them on the yellow eyes and the raven hair and the tawny arms blown fresh and bare were more than a mortal might behold and live with the saints for a crown of gold the kelpie riders were stricken sore they wavered and wheeled and rode for the shore kelpie kelpie treble your stride never again on the sea we ride kelpie kelpie out of the storm on for the fields of earth are warm knee to knee they are riding in brother brother the goblin kin the meadows rocked as they clumped the scour the pines re echo forevermore the sound of the host of kelpie men but the wind flowers died on barrow fen over the marshes all night long the stars went round to a riding song kelpie kelpie carry us through and the goblin maidens danced to their two till dawn and the revel died with a shout for the ocean riders were wearied out they looked and the grass was warm and soft the dreamy clouds went over aloft a gloom of pines on the weather verge had the lulling sound of their own white surge a whipper will far from their din was saying his litanies therein then voices neither loud nor deep tired so tired sleep sleep the stars are calm and the earth is warm but the sea for an earldom is given to storm come now inherit the houses of doom your fields of the sun shall be harried of gloom they laid them down but over long they rest for the goblin maids are strong the sun goes round and barrow fen is a door of earth on the kelpie men buried at dawn asleep unslain with not a mound on the sunny plain hard by the walls of con rushel row on row by the crystal well and never again are they free to ride through all the years on the tossing tide barred from the breast of the barren foam where the heart within them is yearning home for one long drench of the surf to quell the cursing doom of the goblin spell only when bugling snows a light to smother the marshes dark and white or a low red moon peers over the rim of a winter twilight crisp and dim with a sound of drift on the buried lands the goblin maidens loose their hands a wind comes down from the sheer blue north and the kelpie riders get them forth three twice have i been on barrow fen but the son of my son is a man since then once as a lad i used to bear saint louis crossed through the chapel square leading the choristers surplus files slow up the dusk cathedral aisle i was the boy of all rochelle the poor old father trusted well but one clear night in the winter's heart i wandered out to that place apart the shafts of smoke went up to the stars straight as the northern streamers spars from the town's white roofs so still it was the night in her dream let no word pass nor even a breath that one could feel only the snow shrieked under my heel yet it seemed when i reached the popular hole the ghost of a voice was crying skull rouse the and drink for the well is sweet and the crystal snow is good to eat i heeded little but stooped on my knee and ate of a handful dreamily it was cool to the mouth and slaking at first but the lure of it was ill for thirst the voice cried soul of the mortal span art thou not of the kelpie clan what are you doing there in the ground kelpie rider and never a sound to roam the night but the ghost of a cry bringing in swift their came reply he is asleep where thou art afraid in the tawny arms of a goblin maid then i knew the voice was the voice of a girl and i marveled much while a little swirl of snow leaped up far off on the plane of sparkling dust and died again for what do the cloisters no think ye of women's ways they be hard to see again the voice cried kin of my kin the child of the sun shall win shall win it was an evil weird that so befell yet i leaned and drank of the bubbling well i looked for my face in the crystal spring but the face that flickered there was a thing to make the nape of your neck grow chill and every vein surged back and thrill with a passion for something not their own in a life their life has never known for raven hair and eyes like the sun are merry but doer to look upon she smiled through her lashes under the wave and my soul went forth her bartered slave i swore by st louis i'll come to thee though i ride to my doom in the gulfs of the sea thy kelpie rider shall wake and rue his ruined life in the loss of you then i fled in the start of a terror of joy or leagues where a legion might deploy for the acres of snow were level and hard every flake like a crystal shard i was the runner of all rushel could run with the hounds on harrick fell and something stark as a gust of the sea had a grip of the whimsy boy in me i ran like the drift on the ice low curled when the winds of yule are abroad on the world sudden the beat of the throbbing sound lost in the core of the blue profound kelpie kelpie kelpie come was it my heart but my heart was numb kelpie kelpie was at the sea far on at the verge of barrel lee i saw like an army shield and cask the breakers roll in the roads of basque kelpie was it the wolves in the dusk of pines where night dissolves to streamers and stars through the mountain gorge i heard the blast of a giant forge then i knew the wind was awake from the north and the ocean riders were freed and forth time there is time now gallop of my heart air the black riders disperse and depart the dawn is late but the dawn comes round and fleetfoot gene has the wind of a hound the hue and cry of the kelpie horde was growing and grim on that white seaboard it rolled and gathered and died and grew far off to the rear a smile there too i turned a fathom behind my ear a rider rode with a shadowy leer i sickened and sped he laughed aloud wind for a mourner snow for a shroud on and on half blown half blind shadow and self and the wind behind i slackened he slackened i fled he flew in a swirl of snowdrift all night through i scoured along the gusty fen a quarry for hunting kelpie men but only one could hold at my side brother brother i love thy stride wilt thou follow thy whim to win my merry maid of the goblin kin i swerved from my trail for he haunted my ear with his moaning jibe and his shadowy leer so by good hap as we sped it fell i fetched a circuit back for the well like a spilt of spume on the crest of the bore when the combing tides make in for sure that runner ran whose love was a wraith but the rider rode with revenge in his teeth another league and i touched the goal the mystic ruin on the poplar bowl when the dusky eyes and the raven hair and the lithe brown arms shall greet me there i ran like a harrier on the trace in the leash of that ghoul and the wind gave chase a furlong now i caught the gleam of the bubbling well with its tiny stream an arrowy burst i cleared the back and the kelpie rider bestrode my neck dawn the still red winter dawn i awoke on the plane the wind was gone all gracious and good as when god made the living creatures and none was afraid i stooped to drink the wholesome spring under the poplar's whispering face to my face in that water clear the kelpie rider's jabbering leer ah god not me i was never so sainted louie who can know the lords of life from the slaves of death what help avail the speeding breath of the spirit that knows not selves abode when the soul is lost that knows not god i turned me home by st louie's hall where the red sun burns on the windows tall and i thought the world was strange and wild and god with his altar only a child four again one year in the prime of june i came to the well in the heated noon leaving rochelle with its red roof tiles by the pottery gate before saint giles there where the flower market is where every morning up from dupris the flower girls come by the long white lane that skirts the edge of barrow plain to the north the city wall in the sun to the left the fen where the i may run and have its will of the blazing blue the while i loitered the market through halting a moment to converse with old babette who had been my nurse there passed through the stalls a woman bright with a curdle of cinnabar and white among the curses blue and i said who is it babette with lifted head and the startled look possessed and strange under the paint secure from change ah surgeon do ye not can of the eerie folk of barrow fen i blenched and she knew too well i whisked the fearsome fate of the goblin trist the street is a cruel home surgeon but a weird uncanny drives her on it is a bitter tale for christian folk how once she dreamed and how she woke ii i passed and reached the spring where the poplars kept their whispering hid for an hour in the shade in the rank marsh grass of a tiny glade there crossed the moor from the town of far in curdle of white and cinnabar a wanderer on that plane of tears bowed with a burden not of the years as one that goeth sorrowing for many an unforgotten thing to the crystal well as the sun drew low there came that harridon of woe she stooped to drink i heard her cry ah god how tired out am i i called him by the dearest name a girl may call i have my shame yet death is crueler than life once they said for all the strife and so i lived but the wild will broken and bitter drives to ill and now i know what no one saith that love is crueler than death how i did love him is love too high my god for such lost folk as i her tears went down to the grass by the well in that passion of grief and where they fell wind flowers trembled pale and white a craven i crept away from the site and turned me home to st louis hall where the sunflowers burned by the eastern wall the vesper frankincense that day rose to the rafters and melted away and was no more than a cloud that stirs among the spires of norway furs and i said the holy solitude of the hoary crypt and the wild green wood are one to the god i have never known whose kingdom has neither born nor thrown five now i am old and the years delay but i know i know there will come a day when april is over the norland town and the loosened brooks from the hills go down when tears have quenched the sorrow of time wherein the earth shall rebuild her prime and the houses of dark be overthrown when the goblin maids shall love their own their arms forever unlaced from their hold of the urls of the sea on that alien wall and the feckless light of their golden eyes shall forget the desire that made them wise when the hands of the foam shall beckon and flee and the kelpie riders ride for the sea and the whipper will the whole night long repeat his litanese of song till morning whiten the world again and the flowers revive on barrow fen over the acres of calm rochelle fresh by the stream of the crystal well end of section two recording by shon michael hogan st john's newfoundland canada section three of ballads of lost haven this is a liber vox recording all liber vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit liber vox dot org recording by shon michael hogan ballads of lost haven by bliss carmen section three noons of poppy noons of poppy noons of poppy scarlet leagues along the sea flaxen hair afloat in sunlight love come down the world to me there's a captain i must chip with heart that day be far from now where's his dark command in silence with the sea frost on his brow noons of poppy noons of poppy purple shadows by the sea how should love take thought to wonder what the distant port may be nay if love have joy for shipmate for a night watch or a year dawn will light or lonely haven heart to happy heart as here noons of poppy noons of poppy scarlet acres by the sea burning to the blue above them love the world is full for me legends of lost haven there are legends of lost haven come i know not whence to me when the wind is in the clover when the sun is on the sea there are rumors in the pine tops there are whispers in the grass and the flocking crows at nightfall bring home hints of things that pass out upon the broad dyke yonder all day long beneath the sun where the tall ships cloud and settle down the sea curve one by one and the crickets in fine chorus every slim and tiny reed strive to cord the broken rithmas of the world and half succeed there are myriad traditions treasured by the talking rain and with memories the moonlight walks the cold and silent plane where the river tells his hill tails to the lone complaining bar where the midgets thread their dances to the yellow twilight star where the blossom bends to hearken to the bee with velvet bands there are chronicles and ciphered of the yet uncharted lands all the musical marauders of the berry and the bloom sing the lure of souls illusion out of darkness out of doom but the shore and great evangel comes when half alone i hear at the rosy door of silence love the lord of speech draw near then for once across the threshold darkling spirit thou art free as thy hope is every ship makes some lost haven of the sea the shadow boson don't you know the sailing orders it is time to put to sea and the stranger in the harbor sends a boat ashore for me with the thunder of her canvas coming on the wind again i can hear the shadow boson piping to his shadow men is it fire light or morning that red flicker on the floor your goodbye was braver sweetheart when i sailed away before think of this last lovely summer love what ails the wind tonight what's he's saying in the chimney turns your berry cheeks so white what a morning how the sunlight sparkles on the outer bay where the brig lies waiting for me to trip anchor and away that's the doom keel you may know her by her clean run aft and then don't you hear the shadow boson piping to his shadow men off the freshening sea to windward is it a white turn i hear shrilling in the gusty weather where the far sea line is clear what a morning for departure how your blue eyes melt and shine will you watch us from the headland till we sink below the line i can see the wind already steer the scurf marks of the tide as we slip the wake of being down the sloping world and wide i can feel the vasty mountains heave and settle under me and the doom keel veer and shudder crumbling on the hollow sea there's a call as when a white gull cries and beats across the blue that must be the shadow boson piping to his shadow crew there's a boating sound like winter when the pines begin to quail that must be the gray wind moaning in the belly of the sail i can feel the icy fingers creeping in upon my bones there must be a berg to windward somewhere in these border zones stir the fire i love the sunlight always loved my shipmate sun how the sunflowers beckon to me from the door yard one by one how the royal lady roses screw this summer world of ours there'll be none in lonely haven it is too far north for flowers there sweetheart and i must leave you what should touch my wife with tears there's no danger with the master he has sailed the sea for years with the sea wolves on her quarter and a white bone in her teeth he will steer the shadow cruiser dark before and doom beneath down the last expanse till morning flares above the broken sea and the midnight storm is over and the aisles are close ali so some twilight when your roses are all blown and it is june you will turn your blue eyes seaword through the white dusk of the moon wondering as that far sea cry comes upon the wind to gain and you hear the shadow boson piping to his shadow men the master of the aisles there is rumor in dark harbor and the folk are all a stir for a stranger in the offing draws them down to gaze at her in the gray of early morning black against the orange streak making in below the ledges with no colors at her peak something makes their hearts uneasy as they watch the long black hull for she brings the storm behind her while before her there is lull with no pilot and unspoken where the dancing breakers are presently she veers and races in across the roaring bar rounds and luffs and comes to anchor while the wharf begins to throng silence falls upon the women and misgiving stirs the strong then with some obscure foreboding as a gray haired watcher smiles they perceive the fearless captain is the master of the aisles they recall the bleak december many streaming years ago when the stranger had been cited driving shoreward with the snow when the master came among them with his calm and courtly pride and had sailed away at sundown with pale dora for his bride how again he came one summer when the herring schools were late and had cleared before the morning with old alex son for mate there was glamour with the master he had tales of far off seas but his habit and demeanor were of other lands than these he had never made the harbor but their sailed away with him wife or child or friend or lover leaving eyes to strain and swim strain and wait for their returning yet they never had come back for the pale wake of the master is a wandering fading track just beyond our utmost fathom is the anchorage we crave but the master knows the soundings by the reach of every wave just beyond the last horizon vague upon the weather gleam loom the far off aisles forever the tradition of a dream there a white and brooding summer haunts upon the gray sea plain where the gray sea winds are quiet at the sources of the rain there where all world weary dreamers get them forth to their release lie the colonies of the kindred in the provinces of peace thither in the stormy sunset will the master sail tonight and the village will be silent when he drops below the light not a soul on all the hillside but will watch her when she clears dreaming of the port of strangers in the roadstead of the years port of strangers port of strangers where away on the weather bow drive her down the closing distance that's tomorrow but not now what imperial adventure some wide morning it will be sweeping into lonely haven from the chartless round of sea how imposing a departure while this little harbor smiles steering for the outer sea rim with the master of the aisles the last watch comrades comrades have me buried like a warrior of the sea with a flag across my breast and my sword upon my knee steering out from vanished headlands for a harbor on no chart with the winter in the rigging with the ice wind in my heart down the bornless slopes of sea room with the long gray wake behind i have sailed my cruiser steady with no pilot but the wind battling with relentless pirates from the lower seas of doom i have kept the colors flying through the roar of drift and gloom scutting where the shadow fomen hang about as grim and stark broken spars and shredded canvas we are racing for the dark sped and blown abaffed the sunset like a shriek the storm has caught but the helm is lashed to windward and the sails are sheeted taut comrades comrades have me buried like a warrior of the night i can hear the bell buoy calling down below the harbor light steering shoreward loose the signal the last watch has been cut short speak me kindly to the aislesman when we make the foreign port we shall make it air the morning rolls the fog from straight and bluff where the often crimson's eastward there is anchorage enough how i wander in my dreaming are we northing nearer home we're outbound for fresh adventure on the reeling plains of foam north i think it is my comrades where one heartbeat counts for ten where the loving hand is loyal and the women's sons are men where the red auroras tremble when the polar night is still lighting home the warren seafarers to their haven in the hill comrades comrades have me buried like a warrior of the north lower me the long boat stay me in your arms and bear me forth lay me in the sheets and row me with the tiller in my hand row me in below the beacon where my sea dogs used to land has your captain lost his cunning after leading you so far row me your last league my sea kings it is safe within the bar shoulder me and house me hillward where the field lark makes his bed so the gulls can wheel above me all day long when i am dead where the keening wind confined me with the april rain for guide and come crooning her old stories of the kingdoms of the tide comrades comrades have me buried like a warrior of the sun i have carried my sealed orders till the last command is done kiss me on the cheek for courage there is none to greet me home then farewell to your old lover of the thunder of the foam for the grass is full of slumber in the twilight world for me and my tired hands are slackened from their toiling on the sea outbound a lonely sail in the vast sea room i have put out for the port of gloom the voyage is far on the trackless tide the watch is long and the seas are wide the headlands blue in the sinking day kiss me a hand on the outward way the fading gulls as they dip and veer lift me a voice that is good to hear the great winds come and the heaving sea the restless mother is calling me the cry of her heart is lone and wild searching the night for her wandered child beautiful weary-less mother of mine in the drift of doom i am here i am thine beyond the fathom of hope or fear from born to born of the dusk ice dear swept on in the wake of the stars in the stream of a roving tide from dream to dream end of section three recording by shawn michael hogan st john's newfoundland canada end of ballads of lost haven by bliss karman