"And coldly runs the salt, salt tide;
Alone they bound and prisoned me,
Nor may I taste of aught beside,
Though well I know the sweets there be.
"A thousand gnomes brought golden urns,
With red, red wine and crystal filled;
And all my couch was flowers and ferns,
And whatsoever maid I willed.
"But coldly runs the salt, salt tide,
And men ride up the high, white road.
And many a goodly maid beside--
Nor ever glance to my abode.
"The bee sucks sweetness all the day,
And dwells in flowers from morn to night;
But never, never need he stay,
And never feels he gloom nor blight.
"But coldly flows the salt, salt tide,
And I am weary of my breath;
Though all the world is fair beside,
And yet I taste nor life nor death.
"In feasts we sat at silken boards,
Endraped with silver gossameres,
And 'round me sat my bearded lords,
And maidens served whose sires were peers.
"And coldly runs the salt, salt tide;
I loved too well and she was fair,
And here in bondage dire I bide,
Who never thought to know despair.
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