Thaisa's Dirge

Thaisa fair, under the cold sea lying,
Sleeps the long sleep denied to her by Earth;
We, adding sighs unto the wild winds' sighing,
With all our mourning under-mourn her worth:
The white waves toss their crested plumes above her,
Round sorrowing faces with the salt spray wet;
All are her lovers that once learn'd to love her,
And never may remember to forget;
Shells for her pillow Amphitrite bringeth,
And sad nymphs of the dank weed weave her shroud;
Old Triton's horn her dirge to Ocean singeth,
Whose misty caverns swell the echo loud;
And, while the tides rock to and fro her bier,
What was Thaisa lies entombed here.