Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Wanderlust

But e'en a foolish lad with wanderlust
Has roots that tightly bind him to the earth;
My root of strength in every stormy gust -
A lovely maid, immeasurable of worth.
When craving came for vast and open seas
And howling wind and crashing ocean spray,
She clung to me, she pleaded on her knees,
With soulful weeping begged that I should stay.
Oh, would that I had heeded all her tears,
And promised then to never leave her side!
But all her words fell still on deafened ears,
And I abandoned her on evening tide.

So sing, my brothers! Sing a mournful tune,
Amidst the barnacles and dead men's bones.
As waves are stilled beneath a cold gray moon,
Sink down to murky depths with Davy Jones.
And sing farewell to all the world above,
For I shall see no more my lady love.

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