Lunenburg

O, the blue of sky, with white clouds tossed
Like puffs of foam, fluffed high;
The blue of sea, with white sails furled
“Mid seagulls scream and cry.
O, the tangy scent of salted cod,
Steeped fresh with the salt of sea,
Are bedded now as a sacred trust
Deep within my memory.

I can see the roads that twist and turn
With the bend of winding shore,
All pebbled white ‘neath the march of time
With its wealth of treasured lore.
I can se the flaming ball of fire
Like a jewel on the sea,
For its beauty lingers with each thought
Like a haunting melody.

O, yon little town, so white and green
‘Neath the sheen of the setting sun,
With your fisher folk, their welcome smiles,
Their joy at a task well done;
With your white-washed sands where the clams spew up
Like a child in playful glee:
May I ever keep within my heart
The peace that you brought to me.

– circa 1949

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