Alabama, 19 15. 53 



THE SPIRIT OF THE EAGLE 



HALF wakened by a moonbeam's farewell kiss, 

 The pool within the forest meadow lay 

 And smoked with early mists. O'er night's abyss 



The errant breezes of arriving day 

 Brushed with their fairy hands the sleeping pines, 



Hailed forth the ruddy legions of the sun 

 To fill the East with ruby of old wines, 



And called the jeweled birds out one by one, 

 Till presently within the wood there fell 

 A thrush's chiming, like a crystal bell. 

 That sylvan note in elfin echoes ran 



From hill to hill, from grove to honeyed grove, 

 And as a dream voice in the ear of Pan 



Presaging day, its liquid music strove 

 To rouse the slumbrous god. Fragrant and cool 



The respirations of the quickening dawn 

 Breathed o'er the wood; then lo! beside the pool 



Blushing and ivory-limbed, white nymph and Faun 

 Leaped joyously ; or borne on shaggy brute 

 Trafficked in cherry blooms and wood-sweet fruit. 



The low moon set. The wood folk brave with song 



Romped wildly in their Bacchanalian glee 

 Till one among this gallant festive throng 



Blew the shrill silver horn that bade them flee, 

 And even at the warning, from the glade 



The voice of something sorely wounded cried. 

 Headlong they fled as from the pine tree's shade 



A white doe broke the thicket. In her side 

 An arrow drove her on with bitter pain, 

 And flecked her silky flank with crimson stain. 



Straight to the pool she blindly made her way, 



Ah, piteous sight to those bright morning skies! 



For reaching it she stumbled, fell and lay 

 Half in the water, with soft dewy eyes 



