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 | The harp and plow |  |
Intent the silver-eel to take,
I hied me to a neighboring lake.
An old tree root, the winds had felled,
My form in careless posture held;
And smothered in a tempting show,
I cast the baited hook below.
The dripping moon,
night's ancient daughter,
Just looked upon the sleeping water
Thro' rifted clouds, then like a ghost
Fled, in the closing blackness lost.
I hied me to a neighboring lake.
An old tree root, the winds had felled,
My form in careless posture held;
And smothered in a tempting show,
I cast the baited hook below.
122
Just looked upon the sleeping water
Thro' rifted clouds, then like a ghost
Fled, in the closing blackness lost.
| The harp and plow | |