The Isle Of Tears Poem by Matthew Buchwald

The god of deathless fame
In a chariot of fire
Rode his hapless bride
To a lofty crag
Where the eagle makes his nest.
Angrily he told her depart,
Whom he had fondly loved,
While she with many a bitter tear
Wailed to be abandoned
So distant from her native land.
Kiss me once more, said she,
Before you send me
Childless into the grave.
The shining god no answer gave
But cruelly turned away.
Then down his bride flung herself
Through the angry rocks
And into the bosom
Of her mother, the sea.