Maiden Dream

Perchance there was a land, I'm told

Betwixt the wood and the salt sea cold

Where maidens fair did live alone

With light bright blue-eyed charms of old.

And once, perhaps, there lived a maid

Who deep in her despair dismay'd

Corrupted by her sisters' voices

Always had she spoke or pray'd.

Thus trapp'd in pounding, pulsing sound

Her God, her brethren all around

Did all swoop down upon her close

From up above, the air, the ground.

She chose her death at the nightshade tree

And drank of its prosperity

Then wandered down to the stormy strand

'To Hades, pray not go,' quoth she.

Thus having took that foul potion

Stepp'd the maid into the ocean

Cried, O wind, be still! and hush - 

And lost her human heart's devotion.

Still the rushing tempest roar'd

And roil'd of its own accord

The rain with wind-whipped fury lashed

And bit into her very core.

If not for storm or nightshade sleep

Might still the maiden her vision keep

But as it was, she took to surf

Riptided out in the icy deep.

And neither did she die nor breathe

Amid the thund'ring under-sea

But merely slept, and chanced to dream

The earth-begotten fantasy.