Amelia Josephine Burr: A Lynmouth Widow

A Lynmouth Widow

Amelia Josephine Burr

He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blue As the summer meeting of sky and sea, And the ruddy cliffs had a colder hue Than flushed his cheek when he married me.
We passed the porch where the swallows breed, We left the little brown church behind, And I leaned on his arm, though I had no need, Only to feel him so strong and kind.
One thing I never can quite forget; It grips my throat when I try to pray — The keen salt smell of a drying net That hung on the churchyard wall that day.
He would have taken a long, long grave — A long, long grave, for he stood so tall … Oh, God, the crash of a breaking wave, And the smell of the nets on the churchyard wall!