The Beeswax Barkentine

There was a boy who came to play,
Where the waves lapped up quay.
His eyes were green, his hair was hay,
He laughed quite merrily.
My sister, Lisa joined his crowd
I followed her, my voice endowed
With fear, I cried, “We are not allowed!"
She heard me, verily!

She passed the nets and drying racks,
Beyond the bobbing fishing smacks,
Where stood a ship of gleaming wax,
A beeswax barkentine.
Translucent as a daylight dream,
Trimmed and readied, length, and beam,
Golden-hulled, with golden seam,
And masts both tall and fine.

I felt an urge to run and play
With my friends far down the quay
Upon that vessel, lithe and gay
With flags that fluttered fine.
But some strange power did paralyze
My feet, as there before my eyes
They sailed where seas meet with the skies
That beeswax barkentine.

Where did they go? There are frightful tales,
Of crashing storms, and monstrous whales,
Of icy seas and tattered sails,
Of battles, exploits, treasures fine,
In worlds where only spirits roam,
Wandering lost over wave and foam,
But my tutors keep me here alone,
Far from the gleaming barkentine.

And should chance bring to me once more,
That gleaming bark unto this shore,
With joy I’ll hasten out the door,
Down to the docks and harbor line,
My sister Lisa I’ll embrace,
I’ll beg the captain, by his grace,
To find for me a humble place,
To sail upon the salty brine,
To where the summer stars will shine
Upon this beeswax barkentine.


For Jack the best of all grandsons