SONG OF LOWER-WATER.
When the summer Moon was sleeping
On the Sands of Lower-Water—
By the Lowest Water Margin—
At the mark of Dead Low Water,—
Came a lithe and lovely maiden,
Crinolina, Wand'ring Whiteness,
Gazing on the ebbing water—
Gazing on the gleaming river—
With her azure eyes and tender,—
On the river glancing forward,
Till the laughing Wave sprang upward,
From his throne in Lower-Water,—
Upwards from his reedy hollow,
With the lily in his bosom,
With his crown of water-lilies—
Curling ev'ry dimpled ripple
As he leapt into the starlight,
As he clasped her charmed reflection
Glowing to his crystal bosom—
As he whisper'd "Wand'ring Whiteness,
Rest upon my crystal bosom!
Join this little water party."...
Yet she spoke not, only murmured:—
Down into the water stept she,
Lowest Water—Dead Low Water—
Down into the wavering river,
Like a red deer in the sunset—
Like a ripe leaf in the autumn:
From her lips, as rose-buds snow-filled,
Came a soft and dreamy music,
Softer than the breath of summer,
Softer than the murm'ring river,
Than the cooing of Cushawa,—
Sighs that melted as the snows melt,
Silently and sweetly melted;
Sounds that mingled with the crisping
Foam upon the billow resting:—
Still she spoke not, only murmured.
From the forest shade primeval,
Piggey-Wiggey looked out at her;
He the most Successful Squeaker—
He the very Youthful Porker—
He the Everlasting Grunter—
Gazed upon her there, and wondered!
With his nose out, Rokey-pokey—
And his tail up, Curley-wurley—
Wondered what could be the matter,
Wondered what the girl was up to—
What the deuce her little game was....
And she floated down the river,
Like a water-witch'd Ophelia....
FOR HER CRINOLINE SUSTAINED HER.