A l)o7ibli Creel. 307 



A DOUBLE CREEL. 



BY SHANNON BLAIRE. 



Does a man look deep into tangled wood, 



Or greet the tide of the river's flow ? 

 Do the notes of birds move his heart in flood, 



On the murmuring breath of the morning's glow ? 



Do the mountains rise to his awe-struck soul, 

 Does he feel the calm of the vale beneath? 



Does he read the heaven's eternal scroll 



As he breathes the scent of the dewy heath ? 



Then his life is there on its fulness bent, 

 Where Nature's hands all her glories share. 



If he loves all these he's a lover sent 

 To beguile the heart of a maiden fair. 



It was so, thought Grace, as she looked at Jack 



With his curly head and daring eyes ; 

 But the fear of them never held her back 



When Jack bade her come with her rod and flies. 



Just below the brow of the silvery ledge, 

 And into the foam of the seething swirl, 



Or along the calm by the rushing edge. 

 Fall the downy casts of this graceful girl. 



There's a golden gleam in the lucent pool, 



"Oh, he's fastened. Jack! " "Yes, I know," he 

 sighed. 



" Does it hiirt him, Jack? " " Yes, the headlong fool," 

 As he stood transfixed by the water's side. 



With the trophies rare in her teeming creel, 

 To her watching hand on that Summer day, 



A sweet new joy Grace was fain to feel. 



While a dearer prize found its vanquished way. 



