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"Twill be Easter-time in the world-ah me!
And I lose my poor soul, Merman, here with
I said, “Go up, dear heart, through the waves: Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind seacaves."
She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay.
Children dear, was it yesterday?
Children dear, were we long alone?
The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan;
Come," I said, and we rose through the surf in
We went up the beach in the sandy down
Through the narrow paved streets, where all was
To the little gray church on the windy hill.
But we stood without in the cold blowing airs. We climb'd on the graves, on the stones worn with rains,
And we gazed up the aisle through the small
She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear;
For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book.
Down, down, down,
Down to the depths of the sea,
She sits at her wheel in the humming town,
Hark what she sings: "O joy, O joy,
For the humming street, and the child with its
For the priest and the bell, and the holy well,
And the blessèd light of the sun."
And so she sings her fill,
Singing most joyfully,
Till the shuttle falls from her hand,
And the whizzing wheel stands still.
She steals to the window and looks at the sand
And over the sand at the sea;
And her eyes are set in a stare;
From a sorrow clouded eye,
And a heart sorrow laden,
A long, long sigh,
For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden,
And the gleam of her golden hair.
Come away, away, children.
She will start from her slumber
A pavement of pearl.
Singing," Here came a mortal,
And alone dwell forever
But, children, at midnight,
When sweet airs come seaward
And high rocks throw mildly
We will gaze from the sand-hills
At the church on the hillside
And then come back, down.
She left lonely forever
The kings of the sea.”
The Sands of Dee
"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home
Across the sands of Dee;"
The western wind was wild and dank wi' foam,
And all alone went she.
The western tide crept up along the sand,
And round and round the sand,
As far as eye could see.
The rolling mist came down and hid the land—
And never home came she.
"Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hairA tress o' golden hair,
A drowned maiden's hair
Above the nets at sea?
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair
They rowed her in across the rolling foam,
The cruel hungry foam,
To her grave beside the sea:
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home
Across the sands of Dee!