The Gulls.

Through the darkness of the night
I heard the seagulls crying,
Echoing, eerie through the mist
Low on the headland lying.
There was neither moon nor star,
But fog wraiths bleakly flying,
And lonely through the lonely night
The sound of seagulls crying.
Low across the water
I heard their wild wings coming,
Vibrant through the silent night
In low, insistent drumming;
Mournful, deep and steady,
As wind through waste lands thrumming—
And low above the waters
The dark wings drumming, drumming.
There was neither moon nor star,
But fog wraiths bleakly flying,
Mist on hidden headlands
Coldly, dimly lying;
Only wings through darkness
Sweeping near, then dying …
And lonely through the lonely night
The sound of seagulls crying!

—Una Auld.