Page:Poems Hoffman.djvu/171

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And there on her peaceful couch beheld
His promised bride in her watery tomb,
Ah! who can guess what emotion swelled
His heart, as he stood in that sea-lit room?

And they left her there, it were better so,
Sweetly to sleep in that upper berth,
In the crimson curtain's roseate glow,
Too fair for the dread decay of earth.

With her long dark hair on the wave afloat
Like seaweed strands on the waters flung,
Or clinging close to her fair white throat,
And one little hand o'er her high couch hung.

Then close the door gently, disturb her not,
And softly pass o'er the ruined deck;
No evil profanes the enchanted spot
Where sleepeth the lady of the wreck.

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