Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Little Book of Modern Verse. 1917.
Clinton Scollard
Bag-Pipes at Sea
A
The whipping sheet, the dashing spray,
I heard, with notes of joy and wail,
A piper play.
The dusk about his shadowy form;
He seemed like some strange ancient god
Of song and storm.
And war went down the darkling air;
Then came a sudden subtle swirl,
And love was there.
The sea to him, the night obscure?
In dreams he strayed some brackened glade,
Some heathery moor.
And if he watched the shifting track,
He marked, too, the eternal stars
Shine through the wrack.
And so amid the wastes of foam,
Afar his heart was happy in
His highland home!