The nighted wood? Some ghost whose haunts disturbed
The prince's wail? Oh no ! it is the saint
Whom oft at early morn the woodman meets
Crossing with speed of wind the forest tracts.
Has he then heard the prince's cry? He did,
And is presently at his side. "Alas !
Innocent prince", he cried, and from his pot
Sprinkled the holy water over his form.
At once the bleeding stopped, and, in his arms
Holding the swooning prince, the holy saint
Windswift over forest flew.
Conclusion
The sun has set; but, linger yet his rays
Over the odorous heights of eastern peaks,
Where, stopping in her thoughtless speed, the fawn
With baby-wonder eyes the setting day,
That, twitching now his mantle bright, walked down
The slopes of the western mount. The forest lay
In all its twilight grandeur robed in shades.
But who be she that like a goddess sat
Upon a rock that edged a noiseless stream
And shiplike rose amidst a leafy sea?
All clad in purest white : one diamond lace
Alone adorned her neck and dangling rested
Over her fairy breast. Long did she trace
With thoughtful eye the evening evolutions
Of earth and sky, while each image that graced
గురుజాడలు
14
కవితలు
