You are gone to be a sailor, Son
to answer the call of the sea;
And though my heart may miss you, Son
I know this has to be.

For what is life if you are tied,
and always long to roam;
You had to cross the ocean wide,
to see the breakers foam.

To feel the salt spray sting your face,
and hear the cry of birds;
To meet your brothers of a different race,
and try to learn their words.

To eat strange foods 'neath a tropical sky,
and bargain in Eastern bazaars;
To see the Golden Eagle fly,
as he skims his way to the stars.

Perhaps someday to the north you'll sail,
to the land of ice and snow;
And on your return you will tell your tale,
of the world of the Eskimo.

And if some night I am in your dreams,
and the tears should fill your eyes;
Just look above at the pale moonbeams,
and the stars in the endless skies.

And there, my Son, I'll be gazing too,
at the same bright stars and moon;
The wind will carry my thoughts to you,
and my prayer that we'll meet again soon.

I'll send you a kiss in the soft sea breeze,
and you'll feel my gentle caress;
My voice will whisper across the blue sea,
"Goodnight, my love, god bless."

Winifred Bridges