watching the snow.
55
Her grim boatman tightens
His rough grasp, and frightens
Me sore, as we sail to the east, where it lightens,
On waves of the gale.
His rough grasp, and frightens
Me sore, as we sail to the east, where it lightens,
On waves of the gale.
White, dimpled, and winning,
The fairy sits spinning,
From her hair, floating fair, coils of cable beginning,
Her shallop to tether
In stress of bleak weather,
While the boatman and I, wrapped in ermine together,
Drift on through the sky.
The fairy sits spinning,
From her hair, floating fair, coils of cable beginning,
Her shallop to tether
In stress of bleak weather,
While the boatman and I, wrapped in ermine together,
Drift on through the sky.
Stay! the boat is upsetting!
My fairy, forgetting
Her coil and her toil, to escape from a wetting,
Has now the one notion:
Below boils the ocean!
I scream,—I am heard,—up, in arrowy motion,
I am borne by a bird;—
My fairy, forgetting
Her coil and her toil, to escape from a wetting,
Has now the one notion:
Below boils the ocean!
I scream,—I am heard,—up, in arrowy motion,
I am borne by a bird;—
A gray eagle!—over
The seas flies the rover;
And I ride as his guide, a new world to discover.
The seas flies the rover;
And I ride as his guide, a new world to discover.
