IN THE ZUYDER ZEE
(When a Prince was there)
The fog hangs low on a desolate isle
Out in the Zuyder Zee;
The mists cling close to the fisher boats
Awash in the desolate sea.
The rain falls a-patter on the fisher huts
And the slippery walls of stone;
It casts a gloom like a mantled tomb
‘Round the house that stands alone.
The women spread the sea-laved clothes
On the slippery walls of stone,
But their glances flash from troubled eyes
To the house that stands alone.