The Vassal

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WIND of the North, O far, wild wind
  Born of a far, lone sea--
When suns are soft and breezes kind
  Why are you kin to me?

Uncounted years above the sea,
  Rock-fortressed from its rage,
The fishermen, your fathers, kept
  A barren heritage--
Grim as the sea they forced to pay
  The sea-toll of their wage.

And lo! The fate which made you hers
  And gave you of her best
And set you in a sunny place,
  Down-sloping to the West,
Forgot to change your fisher's heart
  Serf to the sea's unrest!

Wind of the North! O bitter wind,
  I hear the wild seas fret--
In the dim spaces of the mind
  They claim me vassal yet!

© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay