As it draws to the Ocean, may strike Peace to the soul of the man on its breast As the pale waste widens around him, As the banks fade dimmer away, As the stars come out, and the night-wind Murmurs and scents of the infinite sea. 315 THE FORSAKEN MERMAN COME, dear children, let us away; Now my brothers call from the bay, Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. This way, this way! Call her once before you go— Call once yet! In a voice that she will know: "Margaret! Margaret!" Children's voices should be dear (Call once more) to a mother's ear; Surely she will come again! Call her once and come away; This way, this way! "Mother dear, we cannot stay! The wild white horses foam and fret." Margaret! Margaret! Come, dear children, come away down; Call no more! One last look at the white-wall'd town, And the little gray church on the windy shore, Then come down! She will not come though you call all day; Children dear, was it yesterday We heard the sweet bells over the bay? Through the surf and through the swell, Where the spent lights quiver and gleam, Children dear, was it yesterday (Call yet once) that she went away? Once she sate with you and me, On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, And the youngest sate on her knee. She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well, When down swung the sound of a far-off bell. She sigh'd, she look'd up through the clear green sea; She said: "I must go, for my kinsfolk pray In the little gray church on the shore to-day. 'Twill be Easter-time in the world-ah me! And I lose my poor soul, Merman! here with thee." Children dear, were we long alone? "The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan; Come!" I said; and we rose through the surf in the bay. We went up the beach, by the sandy down Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd town; Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still, To the little gray church on the windy hill. From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers, We climb'd on the graves, on the stones worn with rains, 66 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, Singing most joyfully. Hark what she sings: "O joy, O joy, For the humming street, and the child with its toy! For the priest and the bell, and the holy well; For the wheel where I spun, And the blessed light of the sun!" And so she sings her fill, Singing most joyfully, Till the spindle drops 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; And anon there drops a tear, A long, long sigh; For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden And the gleam of her golden hair. Come away, away children; A pavement of pearl. Singing: "Here came a mortal, But faithless was she! And alone dwell for ever The kings of the sea. But, children, at midnight, We will gaze, from the sand-hills, THE sea is calm to-night, The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits; -on the French coast the light Where the sea meets the moon-blanch'd land, Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, Begin, and cease, and then again begin, With tremulous cadence slow, and bring Sophocles long ago Heard it on the Ægæan, and it brought Find also in the sound a thought, Hearing it by this distant northern sea. The Sea of Faith Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd. But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world. |