THE STAGNANT POOL.
Stooping beside a stagnant pool to drink
I saw a woman, weary and forlorn,
With hair unkempt, and garments stained and torn;
All grace of womanhood was fled, no link
Remained of happier days; along the brink
Swept by a stately dame with words of scorn;
“Though I had thirsted since the early morn,
Before my feet in that foul wave should sink
My willing lips should press the cup of death.”
O scornful dame! before the night was black,
Lo! I beheld thy swift feet speeding back,
With robes dishevelled and with gasping breath,
In this same wave thy parching lips to cool,
As eagerly as ’twere a mountain pool.