William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. (1878–1962). Anthology of Massachusetts Poets. 1922.
The Cross-Current
T
New England blood I boast;
The stubborn pastures bred them,
The grim, uncordial coast,
Loved well enough by me,
Then how should I be yearning
To scour the earth and sea.
Wed a New England mate:
They dwelt and did and died here,
Nor glimpsed a rosier fate.
But foreigners they loathed,
And wandering folk, and minstrels,
And gypsies motley-clothed.
Fantastic, wild array?
Why have I vagrant fancies
For lads from far away.
Or paced in Elders’ weeds;
But all were grave and pious
And hated heathen creeds.
To dread forces still?
Why does my heart go questing
For Pan beyond the hill?
Though others’ wills they chained,—
But made the Law and kept it,—
And Beauty, they restrained.
To laws of rule and square?
Why would I dream and dally,
Or, reckless, do and dare?
O dames, correct and mild,
Who bred me of your virtues!
Whence comes this changing child?—
Unlucky number this!—
My grandma loved a Pirate,
And all my faults are his!
With beauty-loving eye,
He swept Colonial waters
Of coarser, bloodier fry.
At Law he shook his fist.
Ah, merrily he plundered,
He sang and fought and kissed!
And none his part would take,—
I bless that thirteenth lady
Who chose him for my sake!