I Hear The Foghorn Blowing Poem by Michael Walker

I hear the foghorn blowing,
It's blowing in the morn,
But the boat's oars keep on rowing,
While the ocean's shore's forlorn.

I hear the foghorn blowing,
While the souls of sailors mourn
For the debts that they are owing
To the mermaids they've forsworn.

I hear the foghorn blowing
Beneath the sails torn
And the secrets Neptune's knowing
Of the way the winds were born.

I hear the foghorn blowing
To the land of living's scorn,
For the seeds they are not sowing,
And the sheep have not been shorn.

For the foghorn is not blowing,
Except when it must warn
That the waters overflowing
Are brewing for a storm.