  Two shadows fell, tremulous and frail, From the upland over the lake-surface pale, While the shivering reeds shook at sunset, As the swans sailed into a sea of jet. The rippling waters, and the breeze, And the shadows that fall from the trees, Mingled and melted with the twain, A song of whitewashed away by its black refrain. Only words remained, palpitating and few, Falling through the gloom and night's dew Like jewelled fancies rising out of a dream That live for a moment and die ere they gleam. |
|
