to the wild waves, her willful tune;

While her precious pups, full-fledged, frolic ‘neath a misty midnight moon.
Her throat twines her heart’s heavy tones, like a witch’s wand weaves Erda’s moans.
But folding seas her song-spells swallow, to spray and sound steep cliff-stones.

Winter waves wash the craggy shore, where she, her seal-skin once had strewn.
Her heart, with that hide, a landsman stole on that sunny summer noon.
Briefly, she and he did dance and dream they were thanes upon their thrones;
But her hide she found, and fearful fled, lest bare earth should bleach her bones.

He sought her, such a struggled while, as she wandered within her waves.
At last he saw—how salt tears and seas, engulf'd him like glitt'ring graves.
Thwarted, he turned to his earthly trek, where he healed, and had a home.
But sad Fate sent him sorrows to show how his soul still craves sea-foam.

Soft, hear now, her heart’s own hum: sea-spells sounding from a sheer stone scarp.
The land laughs back her chanted charms, echoed, as by a haunted harp.
And lo, list’ning on the star lit strand, where soft earth and sea do meet:
Lingers once more, our lonely landsman, while salt waters wash his feet.

Seeking some slim echoes of a song that still sounds within his soul.
Wishing some witch’ry would weave with seaweed and stone to shape a shoal:
A wyrded hollow where he would weather dark dangers of the deep;
And she, with him in that stead so shaped, her selkie skin could keep.