Oh, but she was bonny, and she loved the wave-water!
Often yet I picture her, running to the sea,
Slim against the sky-edge, like a lad; my own daughter...
Once, while I watched her so, a vision came to me.

I saw her there, under her beloved sea-water's keeping,
Not any more harmed than if under glass.
Not troubled by the waves, but lying quiet, sleeping,
Like a pearl in emerald case; my own child, my lass.

So it was they found her, in a crystal leisure,
Floating in a little space, sheltered by the wave,
She was a precious thing, the sea's dear treasure,
That made itself transparent, her beauty to save.

Over her a wash of seaweed, like a mermaid's shroud.
And the sea caressing her, and murmuring aloud.