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Dante Gabriel Rossetti - A Sea-Spell
Work rating: Medium

HER lute hangs shadowed in the apple-tree, 
While flashing fingers weave the sweet-strung spell 
Between its chords; and as the wild notes swell, 
The sea-bird for those branches leaves the sea. 
But to what sound her listening ear stoops she? 
What netherworld gulf-whispers doth she hear, 
In answering echoes from what planisphere, 
Along the wind, along the estuary?
She sinks into her spell: and when full soon 
Her lips move and she soars into her song, 
What creatures of the midmost main shall throng 
In furrowed surf-clouds to the summoning rune; 
Till he, the fated mariner, hears her cry, 
And up her rock, bare-breasted, comes to die?
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