Or tuft'd cedars, boss'd upon the waves.
The gay, enamell'd children of the swamp
Roll'd a low bass to treble, tinkling notes
Of little streamlets leaping from the woods.
Close to old Malcolm's mills, two wooden jaws
Bit up the water on a sloping floor;
And here, in season, rush'd the great logs down,
To seek the river winding on its way.
In a green sheen, smooth as a Naiad's locks,
The water roll'd between the shudd'ring jaws--
Then on the river level roar'd and reel'd--
In ivory-arm'd conflict with itself.
"Look down," said Alfred, "Katie, look and see
"How that but pictures my mad heart to you.
"It tears itself in fighting that mad love
"You swear is hopeless--hopeless--is it so?"
"Ah, yes!" said Katie, "ask me not again."
"But Katie, Max is false; no word has come,
"Nor any sign from him for many months,
"And--he is happy with his Indian wife."
She lifted eyes fair as the fresh grey dawn
with all its dews and promises of sun.
"O, Alfred!--saver of my little life--
"Look in my eyes and read them honestly."
He laugh'd till all the isles and forests laugh'd.
"O simple child! what may the forest flames
"See in the woodland ponds but their own fires?
"And have you, Katie, neither fears nor doubts?"
She, with the flow'r soft pinkness of her palm
Cover'd her sudden tears, then quickly said: