THE WATER-MAID.

There she rose as white as death,

Stars above and stars beneath;

Where the ripples brake in splendor

To a million, million starlets

Twinkling on lake-lilies tender,

Rocking to the ripple barlets.

She, brow-belted with white lilies,

Rose and oared a shining shoulder

To a downward-purpling boulder:

With slim fingers soft and milky,

Haled her from the spray-sprent lilies

To a ledge, and sitting silky

Sang unto the list'ning lilies,

Sang and sang beneath the heaven,

Belted, wreathed with lilies seven;

Falsely sang a wild, wild ditty

To a wool-white moon;

Till a child both frail and pretty

Found her singing on the boulder,—

Dark locks on a milky shoulder,—

‘ Neath the wool-white moon.

And the creature singing there

Strangled him in her long hair.