Charlotte Mew (1869 - 1928)
Sea Love
Tide be runnin` the great world over:
`Twas only last June month I mind that we
Was thinkin` the toss about the call in the breast of the lover
So everlastin` as the sea.
Heer`s the same little fishes that sputter and swim,
Wi` the moon`s old glim on the grey, wet sand;
An` him no more to me nor me to him
Than the wind goin` over my hand.
Tide be runnin` the great world over:
`Twas only last June month I mind that we
Was thinkin` the toss about the call in the breast of the lover
So everlastin` as the sea.
Heer`s the same little fishes that sputter and swim,
Wi` the moon`s old glim on the grey, wet sand;
An` him no more to me nor me to him
Than the wind goin` over my hand.