XI.

Soft and pale is the moony beam, Moveless still the glassy stream, The wave is clear, the beach is bright With snowy shells and sparkling stones; The shore-surge comes in ripples light, In murmurings faint and distant moans; And ever afar in the silence deep Is heard the splash of the sturgeon’s leap, And the bend of his graceful bow is seen— A glittering arch of silver sheen, Spanning the wave of burnished blue, And dripping with gems of the river dew.