JOHN
PRESLAND .
THE
BALLAD
OF
A
SEA -NYMPH .
HERE
the water
meets
the
sands
All
alone
sat
she,
Wrung
her hair
with
chilly hands
That
glimmered
mistily .
Phosphorescent were
the
drips
From
her hair
she
wrung ,
And like moonlight
on
her lips
Were
the words she
sung.
White
she was,
as
white
as
foam
'Neath
a moonlit
sky,
And
the
treasures
of her
home
On her
brow
did
lie
.
There
he
found
her
,
he
,
a
man
,
Wandering
by
the
sea
,
And
desire
through
him
ran
Misty
white was
she
.
There
he
wooed
her
,
wooed
her
long
,
Till
,
within
her
eyes
,
Where were
erst moonshine
and
song
,
Dawned
in
slow
surprise
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