Fog Horns and Misty Eyes: A Memory of Maine | A Song
'Come.' He beckoned me to 'come.'
'Come walk my lonely beach' he said.
'The fog is thick and the sea breeze cool.
Come. Come lie with me today.
My fog horns call for you.
Discover what the ocean has to say.
Her waves will wash away your tears;
That’s what you want, is it not, my dear? '
In thus manner he spoke to me,
And so, with misty eyes I approached the shoreline.
My head was drowning, and the only sounds
Were the wind in the trees, the rocky sand beneath my feet,
The water, a bell, and an occasional horn.
My eyes were searching for the sight of him to meet.
I stood there heart wide open at the water’s edge,
And welcomed him to take me to his bed.
Near he came. Near he came to me,
So near I felt his breath upon my face.
I thought him beautiful and his smell was sweet.
He gently moved his fingers through my hair.
Then! I realized. It is not right to leave the earth like this.
The choice is not for me to make, this choice I do not dare.
I pulled away from him and ran; my eyes were full of tears.
Then to myself I said 'Your time will come, will it not, my dear? '
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(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(16 April 1918 – 27 February 2002)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edna St. Vincent Millay
(22 February 1892 – 19 October 1950)
(1886 - 1967)
(November 9 - 1937)