Now the sirens weep about the inlet,
Red-eyed, she goes walking beachward somedays;
While the men are picking grasses, she is staring
At the wide expanse that took her boy away.
And the waves become emboldened now to touch her,
Softly sinking sands surround her knees;
In the forests of brazilwood, factors shudder
For the troops that they had marshalled,
Raked with fire in armfuls,
Cut down in the darkness of the trees.