Part 5 (1/2)

And he may sink unto strange depths, he tells me of, That have no light as we it deem.

E'en now he speaks strange words. I did not know One half the substance of his speech with me.

And then when I saw naught he sudden leaped And shot, a gleam of silver, down, away.

And I have spent three days upon this rock And yet he comes no more.

He did not even seem to know I watched him gliding through the vitreous deep.

II

They chide me that the skein I used to spin Holds not my interest now, They mock me at the route, well, I have come again.

Last night I saw three white forms move Out past the utmost wave that bears the white foam crest.

I somehow knew that he was one of them.

Oime, Oime. I think each time they come Up from the sea heart to the realm of air They are more far-removed from the sh.o.r.e.

When first I found him here, he slept E'en as he might after a long night's taking on the deep.

And when he woke some whit the old kind smile Dwelt round his lips and held him near to me.

But then strange gleams shot through the grey-deep eyes As though he saw beyond and saw not me.

And when he moved to speak it troubled him.

And then he plucked at gra.s.s and bade me eat.

And then forgot me for the sea its charm And leapt him in the wave and so was gone.

III

I wonder why he mocked me with the gra.s.s.

I know not any more how long it is Since I have dwelt not in my mother's house.

I know they think me mad, for all night long I haunt the sea-marge, thinking I may find Some day the herb he offered unto me.

Perhaps he did not jest; they say some simples have More wide-spanned power than old wives draw from them.

Perhaps, found I this gra.s.s, he'd come again.

Perhaps 'tis some strange charm to draw him here, 'Thout which he may not leave his new-found crew That ride the two-foot coursers of the deep, And laugh in storms and break the fishers' nets.

Oime, Oime!

SONG.

_Voices in the Wind._

We have worn the blue and vair, And all the sea-caves Know us of old, and know our new-found mate.

There's many a secret stair The sea-folk climb....

_Out of the Wind._

Oime, Oime!

I wonder why the wind, even the wind doth seem To mock me now, all night, all night, and Have I strayed among the cliffs here They say, some day I'll fall Down through the sea-bit fissures, and no more Know the warm cloak of sun, or bathe The dew across my tired eyes to comfort them.