Glamourie slept in her eyes, terribly calm in the tumult, Hidden and secret and sweet was the smile of her crimson mouth. A marigold wound in her hair, she swayed like wind in the desert, Burning and thrilling to thirst the hearts that dream of the South.
Whence came the fire in her eyes? I, only I, knew the secret, The thing that hung on her breast, hid by her stormy hair, Amber drops on a string, her talisman, witches’ amber, Golden, yellow and brown, that only a witch may wear.
The flame is spent, I can no more Hold the tall candle by your door. Too often have I watched to see Your lagging steps come home to me.
The Tyrian traders taught me this. They came, perfumed with ambergris, With amethystine robes, and hair Curled by the kisses of salt air.
They mocked me for my weary hands, Holding your light as love demands, They sang the lure of poppied sleep, Their lips were warm, their eyes were deep.
The flame is spent! Your pale weak face Must seek another resting place. Win me, and hold me now who can! The Tyrian trader was a man!
There’s a town called Maldonado, That’s the place where I would be; There’s a girl in Maldonado, And she gave her heart to me.
Starved with sixty days of sailing, How we swaggered to the shore, Hands in pockets, eyes cocked sideways, At the girl in every door.
Sweet they fluttered to our shoulders, She, my girl, the fairest girl, And I took her for a plaything, Face of flower and heart of pearl.
Round my neck she clung and pleaded, But I told her to be wise; Said no sailor could be faithful, And his love was ever lies.
Then she turned and left me silent, Stepping weary, stepping slow; Merry was I to have won her, And I laughed to see her go.
Now ’tis done--I have lost her, Seas between us thunder wide, “Dear,” I said, “I shall forget you,” And God knows that I have lied!
Many girls have smiled upon me, Up and down the Northern coast, But their kisses only taunt me With the kiss that I have lost.
Oh! You’re killing me by inches, Velvet lips and eyes of brown, For it’s love I left behind me, Down in Maldonado town.
The long well rose above me, a slim shaft, With wet, black walls, and high aloft the light Round as a moon intensified my night. I ate the air and bitterly I quaffed The death damp; nor my pleading nor my craft Availed to aid me in my desperate plight: The vista of high heaven the only sight To see, and at my woe high heaven had laughed.