The Love Cup, Northern Star
The Love Cup, Northern Star.
by
Lem Griffiths
Dash it..,
Dash it all says I..,
Through bars - I espy.
Their 'eaven, their night sky.
Well.., dash it.,
Let 'em have it.,
And the Northern-
Love cup-stars,
In a wisp of sudden sea fog.,
Like breath on a cold night..,
I'm seeing.., me seven,
Her eight, maybe nine..,
All that way back in time -
At her gate,
Afore her Father bade her in,
And I, espied that 'handle-form' of fate..,
A 'twinklin' in lavender-hued.,
Summers sky., that's long been.
In Welsh she bids me, 'Goodnight., 'Nos da'.., North star.,
Aye.., the words..,
And my world ne'er-'gain found -
Press ganged and stormy life and seas bound.
Though my mind, as long and latitudes -
This way, 'heave an' ho lads'
And to..., and fro..,
Has ne'er forgotten..,
Though long, long,
A thousand seas ago.
No.., Not by the strings at my trouser knee,
Nor the candles ablaze 'pon my hat.., but
Too much 'Devilling at sea' 'as passed,
Too much what's called a sin,
If only an invite to her Birthday gathering.,
When I was a young Jim.
But it be, my lot, 'mayhap' - a pirate..,
Not long.., afore the gallows., nigh.,
Through the bars I see.., above them.,
That cup o' love, northern cup of the stars,
If only that younger I,
Aye..,
Below a younger sky.
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