Lorelei

Lorelei, lorelei, where did thy summer raiment go?

Thy locks of lavender and silver leaves did flow

Thy sweeping leaves onto still waters, show

The ripples and the shadows interrupted, bestow

Mystery to thy raiment, lorelei

When winter strips bare thy raiment fair

When spring its flowers’ wings does not flair

When summer’s winds harshly strip and bare

Thy fair raiment that thou dost wear

Call for thy water god, lorelei.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.