Fly Leaves by Charles Stuart Calverley
page 6 of 78 (07%)
page 6 of 78 (07%)
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By the wide lake's margin I mark'd her lie - The wide, weird lake where the alders sigh - A young fair thing, with a shy, soft eye; And I deem'd that her thoughts had flown To her home, and her brethren, and sisters dear, As she lay there watching the dark, deep mere, All motionless, all alone. Then I heard a noise, as of men and boys, And a boisterous troop drew nigh. Whither now will retreat those fairy feet? Where hide till the storm pass by? One glance--the wild glance of a hunted thing - She cast behind her; she gave one spring; And there follow'd a splash and a broadening ring On the lake where the alders sigh. She had gone from the ken of ungentle men! Yet scarce did I mourn for that; For I knew she was safe in her own home then, And, the danger past, would appear again, For she was a water-rat. IN THE GLOAMING. |
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