In the little grey church on the shore to-day. 
’Twill be Easter-time in the world—­ah me! 
And I lose my poor soul, Merman, here with thee.” 
I said; “Go up, dear heart, through the waves. 
Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves.” 
  She smil’d, she went up through the surf in the bay. 
    Children dear, was it yesterday?

Children dear, were we long alone? 
“The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan. 
Long prayers,” I said, “in the world they say. 
Come,” I said, and we rose through the surf in the bay. 
We went up the beach, by the sandy down
Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall’d town. 
Through the narrow pav’d streets, where all was still,
To the little grey church on the windy hill. 
From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers,
But we stood without in the cold blowing airs. 
We climb’d on the graves, on the stones, worn with rains,
And we gaz’d up the aisle through the small leaded panes. 
  She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear: 
  “Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here. 
  Dear heart,” I said, “we are long alone. 
  The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.” 
But, ah, she gave me never a look,
For her eyes were seal’d to the holy book. 
  “Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door.” 
Come away, children, call no more. 
Come away, come down, call no more.

    Down, down, down. 
    Down to the depths of the sea. 
  She sits at her wheel in the humming town,
      Singing most joyfully. 
Hark, what she sings:  “O joy, O joy,
For the humming street, and the child with its toy. 
For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well. 
      For the wheel where I spun,
      And the blessed light of the sun.” 
      And so she sings her fill,
      Singing most joyfully,
      Till the shuttle falls from her hand,
      And the whizzing wheel stands still.

She steals to the window, and looks at the sand;
      And over the sand at the sea;
      And her eyes are set in a stare;
      And anon there breaks a sigh,
      And anon there drops a tear,
      From a sorrow-clouded eye,
      And a heart sorrow-laden,
        A long, long sigh. 
For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden,
      And the gleam of her golden hair.

        Come away, away children. 
      Come children, come down. 
      The hoarse wind blows colder;
      Lights shine in the town. 
      She will start from her slumber
      When gusts shake the door;
      She will hear the winds howling,
      Will hear the waves roar. 
      We shall see, while above us
      The waves roar and whirl,
      A ceiling of amber,
      A pavement of pearl. 
      Singing, “Here came a mortal,
      But faithless was she. 
      And alone dwell for ever
      The kings of the sea.”