Page:Peter Bell (Wordsworth).djvu/70

54 Between the hedges as they go

The white dust sleeps upon the lane;

And Peter, ever and anon

Back-looking, sees upon a stone

Or in the dust, a crimson stain.

A stain—as of a drop of blood

By moonlight made more faint and wan—

Ha! why this comfortless despair?

He knows not how the blood comes there,

And Peter is a wicked man.

At length he spies a bleeding wound,

Where he had struck the Ass's head;

He sees the blood, knows what it is,—

A glimpse of sudden joy was his,

But then it quickly fled;