66 The Kingfisher 
Over eddying Bearcamp water 
Myriad swallows glide and twitter. 
Golden sand-banks flank the river, 
Riddled are they, like a frigate 
Wrecked by cruel grape and shrapnel, 
Riddled by the swallows' borings. 
'1 Flash ! a jet of white and azure 
Leaves the sand-bank, clips the water, 
■ Rises to a blasted maple, 
\ Drooping o'er the Bearcamp eddies. 
; Hark ! again the forest quivers 
I To the harsh and jarring challenge, 
I And again the fish are startled 
By this plunge beneath the waters. 
In the sand-bank, near the turf line, 
Is a larger, deeper boring 
Than the borings of the swallows. 
Here the king's proud fisher lodges, 
Lodges on a heap of fishbones. 
Lodges in the deepest darkness, 
Lays her seven snow-white treasures, 
Fondles them and gives them being. 
