Beside the grim, the grey, cold sea
I heard a goblin call to me;
Beneath a rock, beside the water,
He cried, "Go pray thy lady daughter
To bring some wine to me.

"For coldly runs the salt, salt tide,
And I am prisoned fast and long,
And I was wont to feast and song,
And roaming through the woodland wide.

"For coldly runs the salt, salt tide,
And I am wont to have my will,
And he that brooks it fareth ill,
When I may roam the woodland wide.

"Of old, of old I roamed the wood,
Of old I dwelt in lordly state,
Before they came, the black-heart brood,
To make me thus disconsolate.

"For coldly runs the salt, salt tide,
And stones are hard that prisons be;
Yet here in daily hope I bide,
That one will hear and come to me.

"They came with drums and dancing fire,
And wreaths and chants and incense sweet;
They stole away my heart's desire,
That was all fair and lithe and fleet.

"And coldly runs the salt, salt tide;
Alone they bound and prisoned me,
Nor may I taste of aught beside,
Though well I know the sweets there be.

"A thousand gnomes brought golden urns,
With red, red wine and crystal filled;
And all my couch was flowers and ferns,
And whatsoever maid I willed.

"But coldly runs the salt, salt tide,
And men ride up the high, white road.
And many a goodly maid beside—
Nor ever glance to my abode.

"The bee sucks sweetness all the day,
And dwells in flowers from morn to night;
But never, never need he stay,
And never feels he gloom nor blight.

"But coldly flows the salt, salt tide,
And I am weary of my breath;
Though all the world is fair beside,
And yet I taste nor life nor death.

"In feasts we sat at silken boards,
Endraped with silver gossameres,
And 'round me sat my bearded lords,
And maidens served whose sires were peers.

"And coldly runs the salt, salt tide;
I loved too well and she was fair,
And here in bondage dire I bide,
Who never thought to know despair.

"I hate the stone, I fear the water;
I dread the grey, the moaning sea;
I pray thee bid thy lady daughter
To fetch some wine to me.

"For coldly, coldly, runs the tide;
And all the foam is salt and strong;
And here, athirst and cramped, I bide,
And I have waited, waited long."

Literary Monthly, 1910.