He reminisced of storm-struck gilded sands
Where innocence was lost, upon the dunes
Where memory was drowned in golden strands
That faded to the fresh new autumn moon

oh roiling sea, what angered thee that night?
how dreadful was the fury of thy might!

Thin shredded fingers, torn by jagged cracks
In jagged rocks, were blessed by numbing cold;
Raw crimson eddies swirled and circled, sacks
And boxes strewed on tides that ebbed and flowed

oh woeful sea, how bittersweet thy kiss
that dragged unwary souls to thy abyss!

Behold! Did shadows play on weary eyes?
The hunters' moon revealed a pallid hand
Awash among the flotsam; hope denies
The wonted outcome of the seas command

oh jealous sea, why make young widows weep?
their souls you take, their hearts you cannot keep!

Alas! A lass as still as still is calm!
Her breathless lips as deadly as the sea
That knew the siren, knew her sailors charm,
That knew her song, her haunting melody

oh wicked sea, why did thou birth a maid
for whom the debt of life was never paid?

In evil things a beauty still prevails
And beauty is a poison to the wise;
The siren, borne on stretcher, born of sails,
Was dragged back to the depths of all her lies

oh mother sea, take back thy child of grief!
though thou would steal my soul, I am no thief!

Water filled her nose, her mouth, her lungs,
Convulsing her to sip a salted breath;
Her parting lips prepared to voice her songs
That fated those who heard to blissful death

oh hungry sea, thy daughter does thy deed!
take then thy fill to satiate thy greed!

Yet from her lips there came no haunting sound,
No siren song came forth from frothing sea;
Her saddened eyes beheld the soul she drowned,
And in her grief she chose to cease to be

oh grieving sea, what loss thou must have known!
thou took the rest, yet could not keep thine own!

A tale is told of storm-struck gilded sands
Where innocence was lost; upon the dunes,
A siren with her hair of golden strands
Stands with a sailor 'neath new autumn moon