96
Sunday up the River.
The trees were still like clouds there,
The clouds like mountains dim;
The broad mist lay, a silver bay
Whose tide was at the brim.
I looked out into the morning,
I looked out into the east:
The flood of light upon the night
Had silently increased;
The sky was pale with fervour,
The distant trees were grey,
The hill-lines drawn like waves of dawn
Dissolving in the day.
I looked out into the morning;
Looked east, looked west, with glee:
O richest day of happy May,
My Love will spend with me!
II.
What are you looking for over the bridge?"
A little straw hat with the streaming blue ribbons
Is soon to come dancing over the bridge.
