And far upon the hillside dark
I faintly hear the foxes bark.
Across my face the bat’s light wing
Just brushes with a strange dismay;
And from the shores some frightened thing
Slips softly down and swims away.
A fish leaps up—a silver flash,
’Mid widening ripples—and a splash!
A thin, wan spectre of the moon
Is rising late behind the hill;