Lovely is the white town, and smiling it lies
With little green gardens underneath the blue skies,
Days so full of sunshine, nights so full of glee, —
Oh, a fair place, a rare place, for sailors in from sea.
A pleasant place to come to for ships long from land,
A bright place, a light place, with mirth on every hand,
Is the white smiling city by the blue Pacific shore . . .
And I wish in my heart I may never see it more.
There’s a wide white plaza where folks pass to and fro,
And a drowsy tune sounding on all the winds that blow,
Church-bells all the morning, fiddles all the night . . .
Oh, a neat place, a sweet place, for sailormen’s delight!
But it’s heave and break her out . . . and the best tune of all
Is the rattle of the windlass, the clicking of the pawl,
And the steady wind a-blowing, yes, blowing off the shore,
From the white smiling city that I would see no more.
For cruel is the white town for all it looks so fair,
There’s a cloud upon the sunshine and there’s sorrow everywhere,
And blue as Mary Mother’s robe the sea is and the sky . . .
But a bitter hate I’ll bear it until the day I die!
(Cicely Fox Smith)
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Based on Topics: Night Poems, Light Poems, Fairness Poems, Place Poems, Morning PoemsBased on Keywords: plaza, fiddles, sailormen, church-bells, windlass, a-blowing, pawl