Page:Collected poems vol 2 de la mare.djvu/175

 ITH glass like a bull's eye,
 * And shutters of green,

Down on the cobbles
 * Lives Mrs. MacQueen.

At six she rises;
 * At nine you see

Her candle shine out
 * In the linden tree:

And at half-past nine
 * Not a sound is nigh,

But the bright moon creeping
 * Across the sky;

Or a far dog baying;
 * Or a twittering bird

In its drowsy nest,
 * In the darkness stirred;

Or like the roar
 * Of a distant sea

A long-drawn S-s-sh!
 * In the linden tree.