The latest light of
Upon the waters shone,
And still we sat in the lonely hut,
In silence and alone.
The sea-fog grew, the screaming
Rose on the water's swell,
And silently in her gentle
Gathered the tears and fell.
I saw them stand on the lily hand,
Upon my knee I sank,
And, kneeling there, from her fingers
The precious dew I drank.
And sense and power, since that sad hour,
In longing waste away ;
Ah me !
I fear, in each witching tear Some subtile poison lay.
