She wore her trappings gaily,
As a lady ought to do,
And the waves which kissed her daily
Proud of their mistress grew.
They clung like lovers round her,
And bathed her airy feet;
With white foam wreaths they bound her,
To grace her, and to greet.
She cut the blue wave, scorning
Our dull and common land;
To the rosy airs of morning,
We saw her sails expand.
How graceful was their drooping
Ere the winds began to blow,
While the gay Coquette was stooping
To her clear green glass below!
How gallant was their sweeping,
While they swelled upon the air;
As the winds were in their keeping,
And they knew they were so fair!
A shower of spray before her,
A silvery wake behind,
A cloud of canvass o'er her,
She sprang before the wind.
She was so loved, the fairy,
Like a mistress or a child;
For she was so trim and airy,
So buoyant and so wild.
And though so young a rover,
She knew what life could be;
For she had wandered over
Full many a distant sea.
One night, 'twas in September,
A mist arose on high;
Not the oldest could remember
Such a dense and darkened sky:
And small dusk birds came hovering
The gloomy waters o'er;
The waves mocked their sweet sovereign,
And would obey no more.
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