Krinken was a little child--
It was summer when he smiled;
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Stretched its white arms out to him,
Calling: "Sun-Child, come to me,
Let me warm my heart with thee"--
But the child heard not the sea
Calling, yearning evermore
For the summer on the shore.
Krinken on the beach one day
Saw a maiden Nis at play--
On the pebbly beach she played
In the summer Krinken made.
Fair and very fair was she--
Just a little child was he.
"Krinken," said the maiden Nis
"Let me have a little kiss--
Just a kiss and go with me
To the summer lands that be
Down within the silver sea!"
Krinken was a little child--
By the maiden Nis beguiled,
Hand in hand with her went he--
And 'twas summer in the sea!
And the hoary sea and grim
To its bosom folded him--
Clasped and kissed the little form,
And the ocean's heart was warm.
But upon the misty shore
Winter brooded evermore.
With that winter in my heart,
Oft in dead of night I start--
Start and lift me up and weep,
For those visions in my sleep
Mind me of the yonder deep!
'Tis _his_ face lifts from the sea--
'Tis _his_ voice calls out to me--
_Thus_ the winter bides with me.
Krinken was the little child
By the maiden Nis beguiled;
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Reached its longing arms to him,
Calling: "Sun-Child, come to me,
Let me warm my heart with thee!"
But the sea calls out no more
And 'tis winter on the shore--
Summer in the silver sea
Where with maiden Nis went he--
And the winter bides with me!