There are lights a-flashing in the harbour from the ships at anchor where they ride,
And a dry wind going through the palm-trees and the long-low murmur of the tide .
And there’s noise and laughter in the foc’s’le, and the bare feet beating out the tune
To the sound of Casey’s concertina underneath the great gold moon —
Creaky old leaky concertina underneath the great gold moon.
There’s a milky glimmer on the water, and the lonely glitter of the stars,
And a light breeze blowing up the roadstead, and a voice a-sighing in the spars,
A-sighing, crying in the backstays, and the furled sails sleeping overhead,
And the sound of Casey’s concertina, singing of a time that’s fled —
Leaky old creaky concertina singing of a dream that’s dead.
(Cicely Fox Smith)
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Based on Topics: Light Poems, Time Poems, Dreams Poems, Cry Poems, Water Poems, Singing PoemsBased on Keywords: palm-trees, leaky, casey, concertina, roadstead, creaky, foc, a-sighing, backstays, a-flashing