Maiden;
O weathercock on the village spire,
With your golden feathers all on
fire,
Tell me what can you see from your perch
Above there over the tower of the
church?
Weathercock;
I can see the roofs and the streets below,
And the people moving to and fro,
And beyond, without either roof or street
The great salt sea, and the
fisherman's fleet
I can see a ship
come sailing in
Beyond the headlands and harbor of
Lynn,
And a young man standing on the deck
With a silken kerchief round his
neck.
Now he is lifting
it to his lips,
And now he is lifting and waving his
hand,
And blowing the kisses toward the land.
Maiden;
Ah, that is the ship from over the sea,
That is bringing my lover back to
me.
Bringing my lover so fond and true,
Who does not change with the wind
like you.
Weathercock;
If I changed with all the winds that blow,
It is only because they made me so.
And people would think it wondrous strange,
If I, a weathercock should not
change.
O pretty maiden, so
fine and fair,
With your dreamy eyes and your
golden hair,
When you and your lover meet today,
You will thank me for looking some
other way.
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
