Bokelskere.no

A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown.

I will talk no more of books or the long war
But walk by the dry thorn until I have found
Some beggar sheltering from the wind, and there
Manage the talk until her name come round
If there be rags enough he will know her name
And be well pleased remembering it, for in the old days
Though she had young men's praise and old men's blame,
Among the poor both old and young gave her praise