Page:Love Poems and Others.djvu/18

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  Her out of the nest’s warm, busy ball,  Whose plaintive cry is heard as she flies  In one blue stoop from out the sties  Into the evening’s empty hall.
Oh, water-hen, beside the rushesHide your quaint, unfading blushes,Still your quick tail, and lie as dead,Till the distance folds over his ominous tread.
The rabbit presses back her ears,Turns back her liquid, anguished eyesAnd crouches low: then with wild springSpurts from the terror of his oncomingTo be choked back, the wire ringHer frantic effort throttling:  Piteous brown ball of quivering fears!
Ah soon in his large, hard hands she dies,And swings all loose to the swing of his walk.Yet calm and kindly are his eyesAnd ready to open in brown surpriseShould I not answer to his talkOr should he my tears surmise.
I hear his hand on the latch, and rise from my chairWatching the door open: he flashes bareHis strong teeth in a smile, and flashes his eyesIn a smile like triumph upon me; then careless-wiseHe flings the rabbit soft on the table boardAnd comes towards me: ah, the uplifted sword

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