Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/25

6 The Baron swore—the Baron said, “Now all be gone, alone I'll stay, There shall not rise another day Without this thief, alive or dead.”

So still he stood, no sound was there. But wasting wine fell drop and drip; Save that, the silence seemed to slip Its threatening fingers through his hair.

And then at last an echo flew, The splash of waters thrown apart; He cursed the beating of his heart Because the thief was listening too.

The slipping scrape of scales he hears. And sea-mew laughter, loud and sweet; He dares not move his frightened feet. His pulse beats with a thousand fears.

At that strange monster in the gloom He points his pistol quick, and fires; Before the powder spark expires He hears a sea-bird's scream of doom.

He saw one gleam of foam-white arms. Of sea-green eyes, of sloak brown hair; He had a glance to find her fair. When he had slain her thousand charms.

The Baron of Killowen slew A strange sea-maiden, young and fair; And all the folk in county Clare Will tell you that the tale is true.

And when the Baron came to dine, His guests could never understand. That he should say, with glass in hand, “I would the thief were at my wine!”