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The Spike Golden Jubilee Number May 1949

II — Time to Go Home

page 57

II

Time to Go Home

The willow waves;
The white sand is cold now;
The day is over.
No weeping willow—
These the wistful willows are
That wave as
The sea-breeze dies away.

The children cry out;
Their voices have that long echo
As the sun goes.
The green weed lies
And the boats are coming back home,
Up-harbour on the tide,
With the soft-dying sea-breeze.

If you wait long enough
Some day will be
Like summer by the beach—
The summer sun,
The gay children watching, playing,
Under their mother's eye.