How can I tell it?
I saw a thing
That I did not find strange
In my visioning.

A flawless tall mirror,
Glass dim and green;
And a tall, dim figure
There was between:

Pale, so pale her face
As veils of thin water;
And her eyes water-pale,
And the moonlight on her:

And she was dying, dying;
She combed her long hair,
And the crimson blood ran
In the fine gold there.

She was dying, dying.
And in her perfect eye
No terror lurked, nor pity
That she should so die.