Round about the Round-O 1880. Arbroath's yesteryear in print

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POEM - 007
'Crossing the Fairport Bar'
'Thos. Kydd'


OUT to sea, from the old red pier,
When the morning is breaking fair,
I gaze, and the lapping of wavelets hear,
And I revel in ocean air.
My heart keeps time with the lap and spray
As, bearing to seaward far,
The fisherman silently sailing away
Is crossing the Fairport bar.

In from sea, in the autumn day,
With the sun on the western rim,
The wild waves hurry and break away
On the lee-land—phantom-dim.
And keen through his rigging the tempest sings
As, steady, each gallant tar
Stands at his post as his vessel swings
Crossing the Fairport bar.

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I think of Youth on the old red pier,
Ere the din of day is begun ;
I think of Age, in the winter blear,
When the voyage is almost done :
And I wonder if I shall as calmly stand
As that weary but dauntless tar,
When my bark is nearing the silent land—
Is crossing the Fairport bar.
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