The Glen.
THE MOUNTAIN AND THE MOON.
Right on the mountain top she poised and stood,
A moment all her rounded splendour showed,
Then leaped in air and took her heavenly road,
Casting her veil o’er valley, hill, and wood,
While old Barrule remained in pensive mood,
Still on she went to some care-free abode,
And never slacked her silver steps or slowed,
Leaving him that one kiss whereon to brood;
But with unruffled calm his quiet might
Watched his own glen nor heeded her a jot,
Till in an ecstacy of sport and spite
She fled into the nearest cloud to blot
With darkness all his world; he heeded not,
Knowing she could not long keep out of sight.
