Page:Three Plays Sunderland Hills.pdf/64

Rh

How strange an hour to demand a debt,

Knew you the woman?

All unknown to me, One of a tribe beyond the woods, mayhap, But, strangely, on the finger of her hand A ring of molten metal seemed to cling, And all the wood was full of sudden calls, And cries, now single, now of multitudes, Like mocking peals of laughter

Frighted birds

Aye, maybe, tho' I never heard the like, Birds they might be, and frighted by a fire Which in the distance glow'd among the pines,