227 



or beast. The water is but barely breast- 

 deep, with no tide, no current. Danger, sure, 

 cannot lurk in aught so calm ! Look at it 

 again. The road runs past it thirsty beasts 

 might pause to drink of its clear depth. Yet 

 never a hoof -mark dints its soft margin, 

 sparse wheels stay not, even the wild creat- 

 ures keep them afar off. 



You have not thought what lies under 

 quicksand heavy, sucking, holding of per- 

 ilous depth. Once fast in it, you must pray 

 for a bullet, the lightning's flash any quick, 

 merciful ending to its gripping agony. Ver- 

 ily it is a sea shall give up neither living 

 nor dead out of which nothing comes ever 

 save Jack o' Lantern to bewilder and be- 

 tray. 



He holds here highest revel. Of still, 

 warm nights you may see his fairy lights 

 adance over all the wooded swamp. Now 

 they circle some huge, bent trunk, now leap 

 bounding to the branches for the most 

 part, though, plod slow and fitful, as though 

 they were indeed true lantern rays, guiding 

 the night-traveller by safe ways to his goal. 

 Master Jack is full of treacherous humor. 

 Follow him at your peril. He flies and flies, 

 ever away, to vanish at last over the swamp's 

 worst pitfall, leaving you fast in the mire. 



