To-night I saw three maidens on the beach, Dark-robed descending to the sea,So slow, so silent of all speech, And visible to meOnly by that strange drift-light, dim, forlorn,Of the sun's wreck and clashing surges born.
Each after other went, And they were gathered to his breast--It seemed to me a sacrament Of some stern creed unblest:As when to rocks, that cheerless girt the bay,They bound thy holy limbs, Andromeda.
