THORKILD'S SONG

  _There is no wind along these seas,_ Out oars for Stavanger! Forward all for Stavanger! _So we must wake the white-ash breeze,_ Let fall for Stavanger! A long pull for Stavanger!

  _Oh, hear the benches creak and strain!_ (A long pull for Stavanger!) _She thinks she smells the Northland rain!_ (A long pull for Stavanger!)

  _She thinks she smells the Northland snow,_ _And she's as glad as we to go!_

  _She thinks she smells the Northland rime,_ _And the dear dark nights of winter-time._

  _Her very bolts are sick for shore,_ _And we--we want it ten times more!_

  _Hoe--all you Gods that love brave men,_ _Send us a three-reef gale again!_

  _Send us a gale, and watch us come,_ _With close-cropped canvas slashing home!_

  But--_there's no wind in all these seas,_ A long pull for Stavanger! _So we must wake the white-ash breeze,_ A long pull for Stavanger!

  OLD MEN AT PEVENSEY