By P. A. Wilson
The siren song of summer gilt the waves,
Unheeded by the practiced sailors who
Whistle at their work among the caves.
Once many sailors listened and they rued.
The lonely Lorelei that never sleeps
Is restless among jagged windswept rocks.
She sings herself a sighing song and creeps
Along the dripping caverns and the docks.
From quiet night comes sound of sailor song,
The youthful piping among stars twinkling
The closer, close to one who means him wrong.
A sailor young and foolish and drinking.
The siren like a vulture left her nest,
And brought his life unto eternal rest.