Children dear, was it yesterday (Call yet once) that she went away? Once she sate with you and me, On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, And the youngest sate on her knee. She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well, When down swung the sound of the far-off bell. She sigh'd, she look'd up through the clear green sea; She said: 'I must go, for my kinsfolk pray In the little grey church on the shore to-day. 'Twill be Easter-time in the world--ah me! And I lose my poor soul, Merman, here with thee.' I said, 'Go up, dear heart, through the waves, Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves.' She smil'd, she went up through the surf in the bay. Children dear, was it yesterday? Perhaps we should find the antecedents of this Merman's lost Margaret, whom he called back in vain, in the Danish ballad of 'The Merman and the Marstig's Daughter,' who, in Goethe's version, sought the winsome May in church, thither riding as a gay knight on horse of the water clear, The saddle and bridle of sea-sand were. They went from the church with the bridal train, They danced in glee, and they danced full fain; They danced them down to the salt-sea strand, And they left them standing there, hand in hand. 'Now wait thee, love, with my steed so free, And the bonniest bark I'll bring for thee.' And when they passed to the white, white sand, The ships came sailing on to the land; But when they were out in the midst of the sound, Down went they all in the deep profound! Long, long on the shore, when the winds were high, They heard from the waters the maiden's cry. I rede ye, damsels, as best I can-- Tread not the dance with the Water-Man! According to other legends, however, the realm under-sea was not a place for weeping. Child-eyes beheld all that the Erl-king promised, in Goethe's ballad-- Wilt thou go, bonny boy? wilt thou go with me? My daughters shall wait on thee daintily; My daughters around thee in dance shall sweep, And rock thee and kiss thee, and sing thee to sleep! Or perhaps child-eyes, lingering in the burning glow of manhood's passion, might see in the peaceful sea some picture of lost love like that so sweetly described in Heine's 'Sea Phantom:'--