Joaquin Miller's Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

“And where's she now?” one careless said,
With eyes slow lifting to the brine,
Swift swept the instant far by mine,
The bronze mate listed, shook his head,
Spirted a stream of ambier wide
Across and over the ship side,
Jerked at the wheel and slow replied:
“She had a dagger in her hand,
She rose, she raised it, tried to stand,
But fell, and so upset herself;
Yet still the poor brown, pretty elf,

Each time the long, light wave would toss
And lift her form from out the sea,
Would shake a sharp, bright blade at me,
With rich hilt chased a cunning cross.
At last she sank, but still the same
She shook her dagger in the air,
As if to still defy or dare,
And sinking seemed to call your name.”