She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleam’d upon my sight;
A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment’s ornament;
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From Maytime and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
I wanted the ocean in my sight, Now all I’ve got are watery eyes. Salt’s draining out in the tears I cry, It’s starting to sting But I don’t want to be blind.