Is that what she sings to me?
She is haunting and holding my heart with a strain,
Where joy lies asleep in the shadow of pain;
And the world that is under the sea
Is spreading its pleasures and treasures to gain
The love that lies dormant in me—
The love that I bear for the sea,
For the secret and sorrowful sea;
Is luring my feet from the gray land again
And filling my soul with the scent of the main,
The sound and the scent of the sea;
And the speech of the siren is spoken in vain,
For that mermaid is singing to me
Of the world that is under the sea;
And the love that I bear for the ocean again,
For the mournful and mutable sea,
Has taken possession of me:
My heart is enmeshed in the mystical strain
That mermaid is singing to me

Of the world that lies under the sea.
Ah, hark again! In a sadder strain
She is singing a song to me—
A song of the unseen sea;
She is singing of ships whose wrecks have lain
For ages in the sea,
In the depths of the sunless sea;
And her voice is soft with a thought of the pain
That song is giving to me.
A thought that I thought forever had lain
In the depths of the soundless sea
Is searching my soul in that mermaid's strain
And bringing a sorrow to me
From the world that is under the sea.
For I have a friend whose bones have lain
For ages in the sea,
(For so it seems to me),
And her song has opened that wound again
And brought back a sorrow to me—

From the depths of the endless sea.
A grief that is grieving my life again,
A thought that I thought, forever had lain,
And never come back to me,
Is searching my soul in that mermaid's strain
And bringing a sorrow to me
From the world that lies under the sea.
Oh, what comes flowing over the sea
In the hush of the evening's cool?
It is a mermaid singing to me

As she sits in a silver pool.