 | The single hound : poems of a lifetime |  |
38
[XXXVI. She died at play]
She died at play,Gambolled away
Her lease of spotted hours,
Then sank as gaily as a Turk
Upon a couch of flowers.
Her ghost strolled softly o'er the hill
Yesterday and today,
Her vestments as the silver fleece,
Her countenance as spray.
| The single hound : poems of a lifetime | |