Page:Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature in Prose and Verse by Paul Selver.djvu/311



are the poplars to-night so aquiver? So eerily, wildly? What betokens their sound? The sallow moon has faded long beyond the mound Distant and dark as foreboding; on the river

Gloomily plunged in silence, leaden and grey Visions have been scattered amid this dead night. The poplars alone, upreared upon the height, Rustle, rustle eerily and skyward sway.

Alone in the night by the silent water here I stand, as the last mortal. It is my shadow that Lies earthward before me. To-night I am in fear Of myself, my own shadow, and I tremble thereat.