And the youngest sate on her knee.
She comb’d its bright hair, and she tended it well,
When down swung the sound of the 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 grey 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.”
I said, “Go up, dear heart, through the waves;
Say thy prayers and come back to the kind sea-caves.”