When lo! upon the list’ning ear
The rustling of a distant tread,
That pausing oft drew ever near
A causeless apprehension spread.
And from a nook, a snow-white Hind
Came bounding—beauteous of its kind!—
Seeking the silver pebbled strand
Within the tide her feet to lave,
E’re noonday’s sun should wave his wand
Of fire across the burnished wave.