An Old Song

The sun set, the wind fell, the sea
Was like a mirror shaking:
The one small wave that clapped the land
A mile-long snake of foam was making
Where tide had smoothed and wind had dried
The vacant sand.

A light divided the swollen clouds
And lay most perfectly
Like a straight narrow footbridge bright
That crossed over the sea to me;
And no one else in the whole world
Saw that same sight.

I walked elate, my bridge always
Just one step from my feet:
A robin sang, a shade in shade:
And all I did was to repeat:
“I’ll go no more a-roving
With you, fair maid.”

The sailors’ song of merry loving
With dusk and sea-gull’s mewing
Mixed sweet, the lewdness far outweighed
By the wild charm the chorus played:
“I’ll go no more a-roving
With you, fair maid:
A-roving, a-roving, since roving’s been my ruin,
I’ll go no more a-roving with you, fair maid.”

In Amsterdam there dwelt a maid⁠—
Mark well what I do say⁠—
In Amsterdam there dwelt a maid
And she was a mistress of her trade:
I’ll go no more a-roving
With you, fair maid:
A-roving, a-roving, since roving’s been my ruin,
I’ll go no more a-roving with you, fair maid.