Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?
Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?
Give them me.
No.
Give them me. Give them me.
No.
Then I will howl all night in the reeds,
Lie in the mud and howl for them.
Goblin, why do you love them so?
They are better than stars or water,
Better than voices of winds that sing,
Better than any man's fair daughter,
Your green glass beads on a silver ring.
Hush, I stole them out of the moon.
Give me your beads, I want them.
No.
I will howl in the deep lagoon
For your green glass beads, I love them so.
Give thme me. Give them.
No.
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Overheard on a saltmarsh
From guest Louisa Hinely (contact)
I was so thrilled to find this poem! It was in a collection of poems called "Silver Pennies" which I owned as a child, and always evoked something wistful and mysterious. I'd love to find a copy of the collection if one still exists.
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