As I trod slowly home one day
In the pleasant month of May,
I saw a fair maid wade
In a shallow bay;
She walked as in a trance,
And her shadow began to fade
As she strolled further away
Into the depths of the sea.
I wailed as realization dawned
And she froze and slowly turned,
To reveal the face of a fay
As a silver tear slid down her cheeks,
I could hear her say:
“I am a mountain denied fountains,
Parched by the sun as a desert,
I have none to call my own
Nor have I left the world
Any copy of me to remember.”
I watched her fall slowly
And remembered the ripples, how ghostly,
As she vanished into the deep,
Leaving behind no funeral heap!
