I think my heart is like the sea, my love,
Forever and forever like the sea!
Like it in terror, and in power and depth—
Like it in melody, and calm and light.
Now I will sing to thee as the waves sing;
And in the articulate music of the words,
That seek thy ear as ripples seek the shore,
Shall be defined the vision of my soul,
That rises from its restless, beating depths,
As the moon rises from the dimpling waves.
INA.
Dimples play at hide-and-seek
Upon Ina's crimson cheek—
Like the bud which wild-bees sip
Is her red and restless lip.
Soft brown tresses steal away
On her slender neck to play—
Lily white is each round arm—
Fairy is her girlish form.
Why is Ina blushing now?
Why so sobered her fair brow?
Why is her blue eyes thus hid
So demurely by the lid?
Why those orange flowers bright,
And that robe of spotless white?
We shall lose our village pride—
Ina is to be a bride!
Why is Ina silent now?
Why so pallid her white brow?
