* THE HERON *

Where leaps the burn by granite stairs

Into an eddying pool, he stood,

Personifying solitude

And meditating his affairs.

A bird august beyond belief

Distinguished in his way of thought,

Yet the sworn enemy of sport —

A “poacher,” “vagabond,” and “thief.”

Creation’ s lord, the heron knew,

Denied his right to fish for trout —

A fact that often made him doubt

Of justice on a general view.

Then me he saw, and, guessing not

I held him innocent to be,

He spread slow pinions heavily

And drifted to a lonelier spot;

But left a feather by the stream,

Deep in the plume, fair, silver grey,

With which I’ ll write upon the day:

“Live and let live” shall be my theme.