The Samphire Gatherer
The samphire gatherer to the cliff-face clings
Halfway 'twixt sky and sea:
She has but youth and courage for her wings,
And always Death about her labour sings,
And fain would loosen steady hand or knee,
And cast her down among life's broken things,
But danger shakes with fitful murmurings
No such brave heart as she.
The gulls are crying in her heedless ears
That strength is made a mock
At grips with the great sea. She has no fears,
But treads with naked feet the stair of rock
That has but known for years on weary years
The touch of sea-gulls' wings, the sea that rears
Her waves against it with recurrent shock,
The sun that burns and sears.
She has no fears because her daily bread
She sees made manifest
Here in the pendulous weed that tempts her tread
Upon so wild and dangerous a quest.
The samphire sways and dangles overhead
And home is far below; and in that nest
Are little hungry mouths that must be fed,
Though Danger be her neighbour and her guest.
Night brings her little children to her knee
For daily bread to pray;
Their father tosses on the open sea,
Where flashing shoals of silver dolphins play.
But hungry mouths must feed while he's away,
So the brave mother clambers day by day,
And pulls the samphire trails, and knows not she
Is of that school of saints that wear no bay,
But do God's work the still and splendid way.