A Seaman's Promise

 When Christmas wakes my country,

I shall fly home swiftly;

I'll trace that long abandoned way,

Back to where I used to be.

The golden grains shall meet me there,

Fully-laden as before;

Gracefully spilling over,

Starring the plains with splendor.

When Christmas greets my homeland,

With wild violets so blue;

Drifting on the wind's gentle hand,

I shall return to you.

For along my hometown's lane,

Awaits a cozy harbor

For me who once did feel the rain,

Trickle down my heart's own door.

For one who in December treads,

The sun blest grounds returns,

When far across the amber fields

Christmas' first candle burns.