18
SONGS IN MINOR KEYS.
FRAGMENT.
CURST is yon stream that glides singing along;
Curst are the banks that must hear its grim song;
Curst are the pebbles that sleep in its bed;
And curst is the pool that lies at its head.
Curst are the banks that must hear its grim song;
Curst are the pebbles that sleep in its bed;
And curst is the pool that lies at its head.
Demons of evil dance near it at night;
Shadows flit o'er it when Luna is bright—
Dim, ghostly shadows, that have in their eye
The dregs of a curse that never must die.
Shadows flit o'er it when Luna is bright—
Dim, ghostly shadows, that have in their eye
The dregs of a curse that never must die.
Phantom-like fingers oft dip in its wave,
Making a plash like a knell of the grave,
Sprinkling the wave-drops like poisonous blood,
Ruffling the breast of the ebon-like flood.
Making a plash like a knell of the grave,
Sprinkling the wave-drops like poisonous blood,
Ruffling the breast of the ebon-like flood.
