THE TURN OF THE ROAD
I was playing with my hoop along the road
Just where the bushes are, when, suddenly,
There came a shout.—I ran away and stowed
Myself beneath a bush, and watched to see
What made the noise, and then, around the bend,
I saw a woman running. She was old
And wrinkle-faced, and had big teeth.—The end
Of her red shawl caught on a bush and rolled
Right off her, and her hair fell down.—Her face
Was awful white, and both her eyes looked sick,
And she was talking queer. "O God of Grace!"
Said she, "where is the child?" and flew back quick
The way she came, and screamed, and shook her hands;
... Maybe she was a witch from foreign lands.
THE CORAL ISLAND
His arms were round a chest of oaken wood,
It was clamped with brass and iron studs, and seemed
An awful weight. After a while he stood
And I stole near to him.—His white eyes gleamed
As he peeped secretly about; he laid
The oaken chest upon the ground, then drew
A great knife from his belt, and stuck the blade
Into the ground and dug. The clay soon flew
In all directions underneath a tree,
And when the hole was deep he put the box
Down there, and threw the clay back cunningly,
Stamping the ground quite flat; then like a fox
He crept among the trees.... I went next day
To dig the treasure up, but I lost my way.
THE COW
Cow, Cow!
I and thou
Are looking at each other's eyes
You are lying on the grass
Eating every time I pass,
And you do not seem to be
Ever in perplexity:
You are good I'm sure, and not
Fit for nothing but the pot:
For your bearing is so kind,
And your quietness so wise:
Cow, Cow!
I and thou
Are looking at each other's eyes.