Seaconnet Sea-Nymphs

Adrift in my wingless shallop

         I come from the green sea-plains,

Where the steed of the Nereids gallop.

         Uptossing their snow-white manes,

Over all their billowing acres

         The flocks of the Sea-gods sweep;

In the rustling singe of the breakers

         Ye hear their landward leap?

But a merrier sound is ringing

         Along with the flash of the seas,

The laughing, shouting, singing,

         And whoop of the Naiades!

Ha! Tell me not the Naiads

         Are only a Poet’s dream;

That the Mermaids meet no Drayds

         By the pool of the mountain stream;

That the Syphids come not dancing

         O’er swells of the rocking flood,

Nor ever a Nymph goes prancing

         On the back of an old Sea-god!

I know! For are they not raiding

         My lingering bark today?

O’er gunnel and thwart invading

         This craft in their plunging play?

Now over the bow up-flashing

         With their snowy arms they sling;

Now under the keel go dashing

         With the white foot’s backward fling!

Ha! Ha! They are blithe and bonny,

         Fair Nymphs of the bounding Bay!

O yes! You may call them Connie

         Or Lottie and Gracie, and May;

Say this fleet diver is Dora,

         That Helen, and this Louise;

Name Alice the brown Signora,

         And Linda the price of the seas!

But I know by their graceful motion,

         And the gleam of their waving arms,

They are daughters of fond Old Ocean

         Who glories in their charms!

Ye may think to lure my fancies

         By many a sweet home name

From faith in the old romances,

         The beings of eldest fame;

But while my bark has on it

         Their race by the good half-score

I’ll vouch for the Nymphs of Seaconnet,

         The Naiads of Wilbour’s shore!