Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/198

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POEMS.
A merry ramble over these bright fields,And thou shalt see what thou hast never seen." On went the pair, until they reached the boundWhere the great linden stood, set deep in snow,Up to the lower branches. Here we stop,"Said Eva, for my mother has my wordThat I will go no further than this tree."Then the snow-maiden laughed; "And what is this?This fear of the pure snow, the innocent snow,That never harmed anght living? Thou may'st roamFor leagues beyond this garden, and returnIn safety; here the grim wolf never prowls,And here the eagle of our mountain cragsPreys not in winter. I will show the wayAnd bring thee safely home. Thy mother, sure,Counselled thee thus because thou hadst no guide."
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