NEREIA
And thro’ the tender-breaking little rifts
Of faintest crimson, quietly stole forth
The young life of the morning; and the sky
Woke softly from soft slumber, drawing back
Out of the sea’s embrace, but still the sea
Slept; nor awoke till Dawn sent forth her swift
Thin-winged messenger, the early breeze,
With its light touch to rouse the dreamy waves,
Telling them “Day is come!”
And presently
Nereia’s spirit felt the faint sweet stir
That pass’d along the water and the sky;
And, tenderly as sleep had taken her,
As tenderly it left her, stealing forth
By secret ways that no man knoweth of.
So from the dewy darkness of her dreams
The damsel’s spirit fared, but linger’d yet
Within the shadowy opal-tinted mist
That tremulously veers round wakening eyes.
For, first, she knew she had the sea in sight,
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