I never saw aught like to them,
Unless perchance it were
"' Brown skeletons of leaves that lag
My forest-brook along;
When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
That eats the she-wolf's young.'
"' Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look,'—
(The pilot made reply).
'I am a-feared.'—' Push on, push on!'