Classic Poem

The moon has risen, throwing
Over the waves her light;
Our hearts are overflowing,
I clasp my darling tight.

Locked in her fair arms lying,
None near, I rest on the strand-;
“What hearest thou in the wind's sighing?
Why trembles thy white hand?”

“'Tis the mermaid's song thou hearest,
And not the wind's low sound;
The song of my sisters, dearest,
Whom the lone sea hath drowned.”