Breathed the sweet air, while gently twined,
'Gainst the cold water pressed,
Her lean webbed hands. She floated there,
Light as a scentless petalled flower,
Water-drops dewing from her hair
In tinkling beadlike shower.
So circling sidelong, her tender throat
Uttered a grieving, desolate wail;
Shrill o'er the dark pool lapsed its note,
Piteous as nightingale.