Sat  the  coney  on  its  haunches  'mong

the  grey  sand  near  its  hole.
Crouched  the  hare  in  the  long  furrow

where  the  tenderest  barley  grew.
And  I  bade  the  living  creatures  loving

welcome  in  my  soul.
For  life  was  not  so  lonely  with  them

frisking  in  my  view.
A  yellow  bee  was  drumming  in  the
foxglove,  where  it  showed

A  spire  of  purple-spotted  bells  upon
the  sunny  brae,


And  my  heart  went  back  a-dreaming
far  along  the  changeful  road.
Till  thought  passed  into  tears,  and  all
the  scene  grew  dim  and  grey.
Oh,  sad  our  withered  hopes  amid  the

flush  of  leaf  and  flower  ;
Sad  the  winter  of  the  spirit  with  the

summer's  wealth  around  ;
And  the  weird  feeling  came  again  upon

me  in  that  hour.
That    life  was    but    a  shadow  flitting

dimly  on  the  ground.
Shadowy  joys,  and  shadowy  sorrows  !

shadows  all  I  felt  and  saw  !
The  old  sense  of  unreality  came  back

on  me  again  ;
I  had  dreamt,  and  I  was  waking,  and

the  morning  air  was  raw.
Or  perhaps  I  only  dreamt  that  I  was

waking  up  to  pain.
There  was  a  fate  upon  me,  and  it  drove

me  on  and  on.
And  I  must  "dree  my  weird,"  alas,

whatever  it  might  be ;
Yet  was  I  but  a  shadow  among  shadows

sitting  lone.
And  waiting  for  the  doom  that  moaned

around  me  like  the  sea.
Then  Hilda  came  up  softly,  and  softly

sat  her  down ;
I  knew  that    she  was  very  pale,  and

very  often  sighed.
Although  I  looked  away  from  her  unto

the  sleepy  town
Expecting  that  sure  fate  which  from

afar  I  had  descried.
