‘_What is that whisper?_’
Said Merlin to me.
‘Only,’ I answered,
‘The sigh of the wave’–
‘_Oh, no_,’ replied Merlin,
‘_’Tis the grass on your grave_.’
As I lay dreaming
In churchyard ground
‘_Listen_,’ said Merlin,
‘_What is that sound_?’
‘The green grass is growing,’
I answered; but he
Chuckled, ‘_Oh, no!
‘Tis the sound of the sea_.’
As I went homeward
At dusk by the shore,
‘_What is that crimson?_’
Said Merlin once more.
‘Only the sun,’ I said.
‘Sinking to rest’–
‘_Sunset for East_,’ he said,
‘_Sunrise for West_.’
Green grasshoppers talking,
Rose rivalling rose:
And wing, like amber,
Dispread in light,
As from bush to bush
Linnet took flight:
Master Rabbit I saw
In the shadow-rimmed mouth
Of his sandy cavern,
Looking out to the South.
‘Twas dew-tide coming;
The turf was sweet
To nostril, curved tooth,
And wool-soft feet.
Sun was in West;
Crystal in beam
Of its golden shower
Did his round eye gleam.
Lank human was I,
And a foe, poor soul—
Snowy flit of a scut,
He was into his hole,
And—stamp, stamp, stamp!
Through dim labyrinths clear,
The whole world darkened,
A murderer near.