THE SEA SPIRIT

I SMILE o’er the wrinkled blue—

Lo! the sea is fair,

Smooth as the flow of a maiden’s hair;

And the welkin’s light shines through

Into mid-sea caverns of beryl hue,

And the little waves laugh and the mermaids sing, And the sea is a beautiful, sinuous thing!

I scowl in sullen guise—

The sea grows dark and dun,

The swift clouds hide the sun

But not the bale-light in my eyes,

And the frightened wind as it flies

Ruffles the billows with stormy wing,

And the sea is a terrible, treacherous thing!

When moonlight glimmers dim

I pass in the path of the mist,

Like a pale spirit by spirits kissed.

At dawn I chant my own weird hymn, And I dabble my hair in the sunset’s, rim, And I call to the dwellers along the shore With a voice of gramarye'evermore.

And if one for love of me Gives to my call an ear, I will woo him and hold him dear, And teach him the way of the sea, And my glamor shall ever over him be; Though he wander afar in the cities of men He will come at last to my arms again. 31