She chained her in a cavern frore; <br />She set a sign upon the door. <br />The key into the ocean fell: <br />The maid forgot the lamp as well. <br /> <br />She waited for the days of spring; <br />Year by year did seven die, <br />And every year one passed her by. <br /> <br />She waited thro' the winter's cold, <br />And her tresses, waiting too, <br />Recalled the light that once they knew. <br /> <br />They sought the light, they found it out, <br />Crept thro' the rocks and round about, <br />And lit the rocks with all their gold. <br /> <br />He comes at eve that passed of old; <br />Amazed at the wondrous sight, <br />He does not dare approach the light. <br /> <br />He deems it is a mystic sign, <br />Or else a spring that gushes gold, <br />Or angels at their sport divine: <br />He turns, and passes as of old.<br /><br />Maurice Polydore-Marie-Bernard Maeterlinck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-i-7/
