Studies for Pictures

A LONELY lake lies far among the hills,
Whose northern sides are dark with whispering pines ;
Fed from their breasts by dancing, dappled rills,
For them alone it softly smiles and shines.

No man has pushed the circling leafage back,
Or stirred the laurels, rimmed with drops of dew,
To gaze where boat has never left its track
Like twist of silver on the shimmering blue !

At the quick touch of sudden, wandering breeze,
Its scudding ripples spread o’er sandy bars ;
And as the waves the slanting sunbeams seize,
The water blossoms with a thousand stars !

The panting deer may cool his soft, shy lip,
And trouble with his bubbling breath its rest;
Or strong, straight flight of some wild wing may dip,
And cut with flash of light its burnished breast.

With sharp, green spears, the reeds and grasses pierce
The still, dark water ’neath o’erhanging trees,
As though some Pharaoh’s army, wild and fierce,
Were buried, marching, as in Egypt’s seas!

Over its heart it folds a scarf of lace,
(Faint-imaged clouds that stretch across the sky,)
And, like white jewels fastening it in place,
The trembling-hearted water-lilies lie.

It braids the moonbeams on a summer night,
Or, while soft laughter all its bosom fills.
Its ripples chase the west wind’s sunny flight,
And kiss the feet of its grave, guarding hills !

Like heavy stream of slow, scarce-moving oil,
On open flats the dim, still river lies ;
No skimming ripple, and no whirling coil
Of dimpling eddy, stirs its mirrored skies ;

No bending grasses on the sandy shore
Reach their long fingers down to dip and lave;
And all unmarked the river’s even floor
By hidden pebble’s softly slipping wave.

A fine, still haze holds all the brown, warm land,
And hides the line where sky and river meet, —
Yellow and dim upon the yellow sand,
And faintly gold on fields of ripened wheat.

A blur of color shows where poppies bloom ;
A line of shadow marks tall poplar-trees,
Standing like ghosts against the yellow gloom,
Unstirred by any lightly blowing breeze.

Faint through the silence of the mellow haze
Is heard the lingering splash of some slow oar;
A boat, for one vague, floating moment, stays,
Seen like a dream against the misty shore.

Slow, with the unseen current, drifts the boat,
(The trembling water laps the level sands,)
And guiding it, a boy, with bronze, bare throat,
Clings to his slender pole, with sunburned hands.