144 THE FRESH-WATER SIREN. 



Each leaf danced light 

 In the sunshine bright, 

 And none but the owls were sleeping. 



All animate things, 



With responsive strings, 

 Then abroad on the sunny earth, 



Unless by age rusted, 



Or trouble encrusted, 

 Were as harps in the hand of mirth. 



With the rest of the revellers a young Gallant gay, 

 Right proud in the gloss of liis silken array, 

 By the glistening water was sauntering along, 

 Now cutting the rushes, now humming a song ; 

 Careless of all, if he had known a care, 

 'Twas the loss, t'other day, of a treacherous fair ; 

 He had merrily whistled her down the wind, 

 And now 'twas heigh-ho ! but another to find, 

 Black or brown, red or blue, if of feminine gender, 

 All other enchantments the season would lend her. 

 Looking blithely about him, around and around, 

 In every direction, except on the ground, 

 Our gay Gallant stumbled, now guess ye on what ? 

 On viper, or toad, or a sherd of a pot ? 



