The water rushed, the water rose A fisherman by the sea Observed his line in deep repose, Cool to his heart was he. And as he sits and listens well, The billow breaks and parts, And from the waters' churning swell A dripping woman darts. She sang to him, she spoke to him: "Why lure my kind away With human wit and cunningly To the deadly blaze of day? If you could know how blithe and free The fishes thrive below, You would descend, with us to be, And prosperous to grow. "Do not the sun and moon take on Refreshment in the sea? Do not their faces billow-drawn Loom twice as splendidly? This sky-like depth, it calls you not, This dank transfigured blue? Your mirrored form enthralls you not To seek the endless dew? The water rushed, the water rose And wet his naked feet; His heart with yearning swells and grows, As when two lovers meet. She spoke to him, she sang to him, His fate became quite plain: Half drawn by her he glided in And was not seen again.