Classic Poem

Like an odor arising from fragrant gums,
Like a vision of things to be —
A shadow, a breath, and a silence — comes
The Grey-Robed Child of the Sea.

Her brow is damp with a beaded dew
Like the sweat of the toiling years,
Chill agues tremble her body through,
And her heart is drenched with tears.

Clammy and cold is her pallid hand:
Its touch is the touch of death.
She waves it thrice, and the fair sweet land
Fades out in a misty breath.

And some there be of a gladsome mood
Who hate this maid forlorn
With her chilly robes and her dusky snood:
For she puts their mirth to scorn.

But I, what care I how sad she look?
I love this Child of the Sea:
For the day that my False Love me forsook
She came, and she wept with me.