"Neither chains of steel nor chains of love could keep him from the sea."

With curly tresses, streaming black,
She waited on her widow's walk
And, mindful of the coming storm,
Keeps her curses all forsworn.

All hexes she has given up,
Poured them from her loving cup,
But still she waits and paces long,
Long as the nightbird sings its song.

Her husband, he has gone away,
The sea has kept him day by day.
And though she waits for his return
The fires of her anger burn.

Why did she love his liquid eyes
That promised all beneath the skies?
Why did she take his salt-scored hand
And marry 'gainst her mother's plans?

Now he was gone with ought to say,
Gone to the waters of the bay
Where dark green kelp both swayed and grasped
And sailors strong had broken masts.

He swam among his silky kin,
Abandoned her to wave and fin,
But still she waits in silence dear
And paces long, year after year.

One day her anger will grow old,
Though sorrow will remain so cold.
And so the Selkie she adored
Will remain a seafaring lord.

With curly tresses, streaming black,
She waits upon her widow's walk
And, mindful of the coming storm,
Wishes well her love, the seaborn.