To-Night I Saw Three Maidens On The Beach, Dark-Robed Descending To The Sea, So Slow, So Silent Of All Speech, And Visible To Me Only By That Strange Drift-Light, Dim, Forlorn, Of The Sun'S Wreck And Clashing Surges Born. Each After Other Went, And They Were Gathered To His Breast, It Seemed To Me A Sacrament Of Some Stern Creed Unblest: As When To Rocks, That Cheerless Girt The Bay, They Bound Thy Holy Limbs, Andromeda.