Gettin' Up - Diggs Duke

The sun has slipped its tether

And gathered down the west

The little bird is sleeping

In the softness of its nest

The cruel wind is rising

With a whistle and a wail

My eyes are seaward straining

For the coming the sail

I heard the bell-buoy

How long ago it seems

And ever still its knelling

Crashes in upon my dreams

The stretches of the ocean

Are bare and bleak today

My eyes are growing dimmer

Is it tears or age or spray