How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A
steely silver, underlined with blue,
And flashing where the round clouds, blown away, Let drop the
yellow sunshine to gleam through
And tip the edges of the waves with shifts And spots of whitest
fire, hard like gems
Cut from the midnight moon they were, and sharp As
wind through leafless stems.
The Lady Eunice walked between the drifts
Of blooming cherry-trees, and watched the rifts
Of clouds drawn through the river's azure warp.