The Poetry Corner

The Water-Maid.

By Madison Julius Cawein

There she rose as white as death, Stars above and stars beneath; Where the ripples brake in splendor To a million, million starlets Twinkling on lake-lilies tender, Rocking to the ripple barlets. She, brow-belted with white lilies, Rose and oared a shining shoulder To a downward-purpling boulder: With slim fingers soft and milky, Haled her from the spray-sprent lilies To a ledge, and sitting silky Sang unto the list'ning lilies, Sang and sang beneath the heaven, Belted, wreathed with lilies seven; Falsely sang a wild, wild ditty To a wool-white moon; Till a child both frail and pretty Found her singing on the boulder, - Dark locks on a milky shoulder, - 'Neath the wool-white moon. And the creature singing there Strangled him in her long hair.