University of Virginia Library


42

SHANGANAGH

To Mrs. Rowan Hamilton
Laughs the darling river, hurrying, dancing onward.
Sorrow she knows of maybe, the bird's or the bee's,
Or some butterfly weary, its wings dropped downward,
Caught in a swirling eddy, drowned in her seas.
Maybe the hedge-sparrow, maybe the starling,
Hath lost here some sweet thing of its downy brood.
Never lamb or kid or any woman's darling
Hath she thought of drowning in her wildest mood.
From her golden bed, set with many a jewel,
No white face starts upward, piteous to the skies;
None hath sought here rest from sweet love grown cruel,
Hiding a sad secret from the mocking eyes.
Bare she lies to Heaven 'mid her mints and cresses,
Innocent of evil as a lamb or a child.
The sun and stars love her and the wind caresses,
Ruffling her little waters so soft and wild.

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As she slips away by a mossy boulder
The child dips a rosy foot where she foams and swirls,
Shows her a darling cheek and a dimpled shoulder,
Laughs to see his face in her, set in its curls.
Here the lamb drinks deep without fear or fretting:
There are no wolves, no danger, for child or lamb;
Only the Angels of God that are never forgetting
Keep the child for his mother, the lamb for his dam.