Sancta Maria, Succurre Miseris
Dear Virgin Mary, far away,Look down from Heaven while I pray.Open your golden casement high,And lean way out beyond the sky.I am so little, it may beA task for you to harken me.
O Lady Mary, I have boughtA candle, as the good priest taught.I only had one penny, soOld Goody Jenkins let it go.It is a little bent, you see.But Oh, be merciful to me!
I have not anything to give,Yet I so long for him to live.A year ago he sailed awayAnd not a word unto today.I’ve strained my eyes from the sea-wallBut never does he come at all.
Other ships have entered portTheir voyages finished, long or short,And other sailors have receivedTheir welcomes, while I sat and grieved.My heart is bursting for his hail,O Virgin, let me spy his sail.
Hull down on the edge of a sun-soaked seaSparkle the bellying sails for me.Taut to the push of a rousing windShaking the sea till it foams behind,The tightened rigging is shrill with the song:“We are back again who were gone so long.”
One afternoon I bumped my head.I sat on a post and wished I were deadLike father and mother, for no one caredWhither I went or how I fared.A man’s voice said, “My little lad,Here’s a bit of a toy to make you glad.”
Then I opened my eyes and saw him plain,With his sleeves rolled up, and the dark blue stainOf tattooed skin, where a flock of quailFlew up to his shoulder and met the tailOf a dragon curled, all pink and green,Which sprawled on his back, when it was seen.
He held out his hand and gave to meThe most marvellous top which could ever be.It had ivory eyes, and jet-black rings,And a red stone carved into little wings,All joined by a twisted golden line,And set in the brown wood, even and fine.
Forgive me, Lady, I have not broughtMy treasure to you as I ought,But he said to keep it for his sakeAnd comfort myself with it, and takeJoy in its spinning, and so I do.It couldn’t mean quite the same to you.
Every day I met him there,Where the fisher-nets dry in the sunny air.He told me stories of courts and kings,Of storms at sea, of lots of things.The top he said was a sort of signThat something in the big world was mine.
Blue and white on a sun-shot ocean.Against the horizon a glint in motion.Full in the grasp of a shoving wind,Trailing her bubbles of foam behind,Singing and shouting to port she races,A flying harp, with her sheets and braces.
O Queen of Heaven, give me heed,I am in very utmost need.He loved me, he was all I had,And when he came it made the sadThoughts disappear. This very daySend his ship home to me I pray.
I’ll be a priest, if you want it so,I’ll work till I have enough to goAnd study Latin to say the prayersOn the rosary our old priest wears.I wished to be a sailor too,But I will give myself to you.
I’ll never even spin my top,But put it away in a box. I’ll stopWhistling the sailor-songs he taught.I’ll save my pennies till I have boughtA silver heart in the market square,I’ve seen some beautiful, white ones there.
I’ll give up all I want to doAnd do whatever you tell me to.Heavenly Lady, take awayAll the games I like to play,Take my life to fill the score,Only bring him back once more!
The poplars shiver and turn their leaves,And the wind through the belfry moans and grieves.The gray dust whirls in the market square,And the silver hearts are covered with careBy thick tarpaulins. Once againThe bay is black under heavy rain.
The Queen of Heaven has shut her door.A little boy weeps and prays no more.