H. P. Lovecraft

THE COMPLETE POETRY of H. P. Lovecraft
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Part IV. Satire

Unda; or, The Bride of the Sea

Written: 30th September 1915

First Published in The Providence Amateur, Vol. 1, No. 2 (February 1916), Pages 14–16

Respectfully Dedicated with Permission to MAURICE WINTER MOE, Esq.

A Dull, Dark, Drear, Dactylic Delirium in Sixteen Silly, Senseless, Sickly Stanzas

“Ego, canus, lunam cano.”

—Maevius Bavianus.

 Black loom the crags of the uplands behind me;
 Dark are the sands of the far-stretching shore.
 Dim are the pathways and rocks that remind me
 Sadly of years in the lost nevermore.
 Soft laps the ocean on wave-polish’d boulder;
 Sweet is the sound and familiar to me.
 Here, with her head gently bent to my shoulder,
 Walk’d I with Unda, the Bride of the Sea.
 Bright was the morn of my youth when I met her,
 Sweet as the breeze that blew in o’er the brine.
 Swift was I captur’d in Love’s strongest fetter,
 Glad to be hers, and she glad to be mine.
 Never a question ask’d I where she wander’d,
 Never a question ask’d she of my birth:
 Happy as children, we thought not nor ponder’d,
 Glad with the bounty of ocean and earth.
 Once when the moonlight play’d soft ’mid the billows,
 High on the cliff o’er the waters we stood,
 Bound was her hair with a garland of willows,
 Pluck’d by the fount in the bird-haunted wood.
 Strangely she gaz’d on the surges beneath her,
 Charm’d by the sound or entranc’d by the light.
 Then did the waves a wild aspect bequeath her,
 Stern as the ocean and weird as the night.
 Coldly she left me, astonish’d and weeping,
 Standing alone ’mid the regions she bless’d:
 Down, ever downward, half gliding, half creeping,
 Stole the sweet Unda in oceanward quest.
 Calm grew the sea, and tumultuous beating
 Turn’d to a ripple, as Unda the fair
 Trod the wet sands in affectionate greeting,
 Beckon’d to me, and no longer was there!
 Long did I pace by the banks where she vanish’d:
 High climb’d the moon, and (...)
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