| AND Yanna by the yule log Sat in the empty hall, And watched the goblin firelight Caper upon the wall:The goblins of the hearthstone, |
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| 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, |
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| 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 |
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| 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. |
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Only to-night a little With grave regard she smiled, Remembering the morn she woke And ceased to be a child. Outside, the ghostly rampikes, |
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| 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 |
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| The gold flags of the Northern light Streaming with ancient war.And when below the headland The riders of the foam Up from the misty border rode |
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| 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. |
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“O Yanna, Adrianna, They buried me away In the blue fathoms of the deep, Beyond the outer bay.“But in the yule, O Yanna, |
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| Up from the round dim sea And reeling dungeons of the fog, I am come back to thee!” The wind slept in he forest, The moon was white and high, |
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| Only the shifting snow awoke To hear the yule guest cry.“O Yanna, Yanna, Yanna, Be quick and let me in! For bitter is the trackless way |
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| 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. |
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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 |
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| That he is come again, And frees the wooden bolt for one No barrier could detain.“O lover, bonny lover, So late, so late you come!” |
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| 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 |
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| 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. |
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She’s led him to the fireside, And set the wide oak chair, And with her warm hands brushed away The sea-rime from his hair.“O lover, I have waited,— |
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| Have 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; |
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| But never the brave barque I launched And waved across the bar.“How come you so unsignalled, When I have watched so well? Where rides the Adrianna |
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| With my name on boat and bell?”“O Yanna, golden Yanna, The Adrianna lies With the sea dredging through her ports, The white sand through her eyes. |
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“And strange unearthly creatures Make marvel of her hull, Where far below the gulfs of storm There is eternal lull.“O Yanna, Adrianna, |
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| 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, |
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| With all my world in your white arms You gave yourself to me.“For that one night, my Yanna, Within the dying year, Was it not well to love, and now |
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| Can it be well to fear?”“O lover, there is heartache In tales that are half told; But ah, thy cheek is pale to-night, And thy poor hands are cold! |
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“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?”“O Yanna, Adrianna, |
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| 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, |
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| No log keeps tally of the knots That I have sailed to-night.“It fell about mid-April; The Trades were holding free; We drove her till the scuppers hissed |
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| And buried in the lee.“O Yanna, Adrianna, Loose hands and let me go! The night grows red along the East, And in the shifting snow |
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“I hear my shipmates calling, Sent out to search for me In the pale lands beneath the moon Along the troubling sea.”“O lover, bonny lover, |
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| What is the booming sound Of canvas, and the piping shrill, As when a ship comes round?”“It is the shadow boatswain Piping his hands to bend |
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| The looming sails on giant yards Aboard the Nomansfriend. “She sails for Sunken Harbor And ports of yester year; The tern are shrilling in the lift, |
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| The low wind-gates are clear.“O Yanna, Adrianna, The little while is done. Thou wilt behold the brightening sea Freshen before the sun, |
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“And many a morning redden The dark hill slopes of pine; But I must sail hull-down to-night Below the gray sea-line.“I shall not hear the snowbirds |
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| Their morning litany, For when the dawn comes over dale I must put out to sea.”“O lover, bonny lover, To have thee as I will, |
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| 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, |
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| 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. |
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Tender as April twilight He sang, and the song grew Vague as the dreams which roam about This world of dust and dew:“O Yanna, Adrianna, |
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| Dear Love, look forth to sea And all year long until the yule, Dear Heart, keep watch for me!“O Yanna, Adrianna, I hear the calling sea, |
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| And the folk telling tales among The hills where I would be.“O Yanna, Adrianna, Over the hills of sea The wind calls and the morning comes, |
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| And I must forth from thee.“But Yanna, Adrianna, Keep watch above the sea; And when the weary time is o’er, Dear Life, come back to me!” |
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“O lover, bonny lover—” She murmurs in her dream, And smiles a moment in her sleep To hear the white gulls scream.Then with the storm foreboding |
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| 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; |
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| And ere the morning light stole in, That golden lock was gray.“O Yanna, Adrianna—” The wind moans to the sea; And down the sluices of the dawn |
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| A shadow drifts alee. |
