She wakes to an ardent reveille
of morningbirds in scented trees.
With dawns first blush, alone again
she staves back worry and thinks of him.

He stands on deck enveloped in mist
body attuned to the list of his ship.
In the salt spray morning, his mooring set,
He thinks of her and feels regret.

He recalls her walking in a Westland glade,
dark hair flowing unbound and free.
With quiet beauty their hearts were made.
In her soft grey eyes he saw the sea.

On the sill of her window in Emerie,
her Elven-birds sweetly sing.
Yet their joy is too keen for Erendis
and she sends away the Eldar’s gifts.

Her heart is for the Land and Trees.
The stillness of a fallen leaf.
His heart soars to the call of Gulls.
His mistress is the open Sea.