So she grew on, the idol of one heart,
  And the delight of many—­and her face,
Thus dwelling chiefly from her sex apart,
  Was touched with a most deep and tender grace—­
A look that never aught but nature gave,
Artless, yet thoughtful; innocent, yet grave.

Strange her adornings were, and strangely blent: 
  A golden net confined her nut-brown hair;
Quaint were the robes that divers lands had lent,
  And quaint her aged nurse’s skill and care;
Yet did they well on the sea-maiden meet,
Circle her neck, and grace her dimpled feet.

The sailor folk were glad because of her,
  And deemed good fortune followed in her wake;
She was their guardian saint, they did aver—­
  Prosperous winds were sent them for her sake;
And strange rough vows, strange prayers, they nightly made,
While, storm or calm, she slept, in nought afraid.

Clear were her eyes, that daughter of the sea,
  Sweet, when uplifted to her aged nurse,
She sat, and communed what the world could be;
  And rambling stories caused her to rehearse
How Yule was kept, how maidens tossed the hay,
And how bells rang upon a wedding day.

But they grew brighter when the evening star
  First trembled over the still glowing wave,
That bathed in ruddy light, mast, sail, and spar;
  For then, reclined in rest that twilight gave,
With him who served for father, friend, and guide,
She sat upon the deck at eventide.

Then turned towards the west, that on her hair
  And her young cheek shed down its tender glow,
He taught her many things with earnest care
  That he thought fitting a young maid should know,
Told of the good deeds of the worthy dead,
And prayers devout, by faithful martyrs said.

And many psalms he caused her to repeat
  And sing them, at his knees reclined the while,
And spoke with her of all things good and meet,
  And told the story of her native isle,
Till at the end he made her tears to flow,
Rehearsing of his royal master’s woe.

And of the stars he taught her, and their names,
  And how the chartless mariner they guide;
Of quivering light that in the zenith flames,
  Of monsters in the deep sea caves that hide;
Then changed the theme to fairy records wild,
Enchanted moor, elf dame, or changeling child.

To her the Eastern lands their strangeness spread,
  The dark-faced Arab in his long blue gown,
The camel thrusting down a snake-like head
  To browse on thorns outside a walled white town. 
Where palmy clusters rank by rank upright
Float as in quivering lakes of ribbed light.

And when the ship sat like a broad-winged bird
  Becalmed, lo, lions answered in the night
Their fellows, all the hollow dark was stirred
  To echo on that tremulous thunder’s flight,
Dying in weird faint moans;—­till look:  the sun
And night, and all the things of night, were done.