The pond was small, the cattails fair;
The algae drew a shining veil
Across the waters waiting there
For her to come while wandering
And stare beyond the dreary pale
Expanse of fog and starry glare
Upon the pond within the dale
Where she had ventured, pondering

The many dreams she'd had of late
Of sandy-shores and broken shells
Upon a beach along a strait
And of the ocean shimmering—
She heard the wave's cathedral bells
Come crashing with a dreadful weight
'Till she, afraid of violent swells,
Could no more see the glimmering

Of pearly foam, nor shining seas
But only turbid tempest-doom;
No more the fragrant, salt-laced breeze
That over all was mingling.
Such were her dreams—now through the gloom
She still heard gulls with throatful ease
Sing of the ocean, and the tune
Around her thoughts kept lingering.

I met her then, when stormy waves
Were breaking on her weary mind
And I was unafraid and brave
And as a child foolishly
Believed that if we left behind
The little pond—that dark enclave
And went where no gulls could remind
Her of the sea so movingly

And where the echoes of the shore
Were lost amongst the wood's debris
Then she would dwell forevermore
Within the forests whispering.
I was a fool—I let her be
Between the trees that she ignored:
I did not save her from the sea;
I left her to her withering.

My friend—beneath the algae-veil
You breathe the swells and thus immersed
Within the cattails you exhale
The song that keeps me wandering.
My friend, you sing the knelling surf
To crash against me. I have failed
So take this poem—it is the first
Apology I'm offering.