Page:Flint and Feather (1914).djvu/95



Lichens of green and grey on every side; And green and grey the rocks beneath our feet; Above our heads the canvas stretching wide; And over all, enchantment rare and sweet.

Fair Rosseau slumbers in an atmosphere That kisses her to passionless soft dreams. O! joy of living we have found thee here, And life lacks nothing, so complete it seems.

The velvet air, stirred by some elfin wings, Comes swinging up the waters and then stills Its voice so low that floating by it sings Like distant harps among the distant hills.

Across the lake the rugged islands lie, Fir-crowned and grim; and further in the view Some shadows seeming swung 'twixt cloud and sky, Are countless shores, a symphony of blue.

Some northern sorceress, when day is done, Hovers where cliffs uplift their gaunt grey steeps, Bewitching to vermilion Rosseau's sun, That in a liquid mass of rubies sleeps.