On Seeing Another Maid By the Water (written for Fed Poets Society 2023)
As I walked out one fine spring morn
A pretty maid I spied.
Barefoot she danced upon the sand
Beside the turning tide.
Her hair of seagrass it was formed
Of deepest green in hue,
Full halfway down her back it came,
In pretty ringlets grew.
Her skin like porcelain did gleam
As white as any shell
And as she danced the song she sang
Rang clear as chiming bell.
So I did join her in her dance
Her hand in mine she slips
And when her song came to its end
A kiss placed on my lips.
“Oh pretty maid, what keeps you here
A-dancing by the shore?
Will you not away with me
Be mine, for evermore?”
“Why sir,” she said, “though you be bold
And pleasing to the eye,
My father would not give me leave,
He keeps close watch nearby.”
“Nay pretty maid, do not refuse,
Thy father shall not know;
Away with me, now come right quick,
To where I bide we’ll go.”
But as I spoke the sea rose up,
The breakers foamed and roared
The waters all around me boiled
Above, gulls wheeled and soared.
And there upon the tall wave rode
A figure tall and dire
He bore a trident in his hand
His face was full of ire.
And as I looked that pretty lass
It seemed she was transformed,
A tail of shining silver scales
Below her waist had formed
Her father caught her in his arms
They vanished ‘neath the wave;
Remembrance of that pretty maid
I’ll carry to my grave.
