The blown spray of the breaking wave
That glistens through your gleaming hair
Shines underneath the blue less fair
Thou your white limbs the billows lave.

O bather in the August sun,
To me stretched on the burning sand
Your beauty naked on the strand
Its magic mission has begun.

I envy even the moment's bliss
Of each wave making towards the shore,
For ere its curling waters roar
It folds your body in a kiss.

O form now hidden in the sea,
Now as the wave recedes left bare,
O flower of flesh, O beauty rare,
Yield up thy pagan grace to me!