Mother of infinite loss! Mother bereft! Thou of the shaken hair! Far-questing Sea! Sea of the lapsing wail of waves! O left Of many lovers! Lone, lamenting Sea! Desolate, proud, disheveled, lost sublime! Unquelled and reckless! Mad, despairing Sea! Wail, for I wait — wail, ancient dirge of Time!
No more, no more that brow to greet, no more! Mourn, bitter heart! mourn, fool of Fate! Again Thy lover leaves thee; from thy pleading shore Swept far beyond the caverns of the rain, No phantom of him lingers on the air. Thy foamy fingers reach for his — in vain! In vain thy salt breath searches for his hair!
Mourn gently, tranquil marshes, mourn with me! Mourn, if acceptance so serene can mourn! Grieve, marshes, tho' your noonday melody Of color thrill through sorrow like a horn Blown far in Elfland! Mourn, free-wandering dunes. For he has left you of his voice forlorn, Who sang your slopes full of an hundred Junes.
O viking Death, what hast thou done with him? Sea-wolf of Fate, marauder of the shore! Storm reveler, to what carousal grim Hast thou compelled him? Hark, through the Sea's roar