I Found Her Out There

I found her out there     On a slope few see,     That falls westwardly     To the salt-edged air,     Where the ocean breaks     On the purple strand,     And the hurricane shakes     The solid land.     I brought her here,     And have laid her to rest     In a noiseless nest     No sea beats near.     She will never be stirred     In her loamy cell     By the waves long heard     And loved so well.     So she does not sleep     By those haunted heights     The Atlantic smites     And the blind gales sweep,     Whence she often would gaze     At Dundagel's far head,     While the dipping blaze     Dyed her face fire-red;     And would sigh at the tale     Of sunk Lyonnesse,     As a wind-tugged tress     Flapped her cheek like a flail;     Or listen at whiles     With a thought-bound brow     To the murmuring miles     She is far from now.     Yet her shade, maybe,     Will creep underground     Till it catch the sound     Of that western sea     As it swells and sobs     Where she once domiciled,     And joy in its throbs     With the heart of a child.