Poetry Archives

As once I rambled in the woods
  I chanced to spy amid the brake
A huntsman ride his way beside
  A fair and passing tranquil lake;
Though velvet bucks sped here and there,
  He let them scamper through the green—
Not one smote he, but lustily
  He blew his horn—what could it mean?

As on I strolled beside that lake,
  A pretty maid I chanced to see
Fishing away for finny prey,
  Yet not a single one caught she;
All round her boat the fishes leapt
  And gambolled to their hearts’ content,
Yet never a thing did the maid but sing—
  I wonder what on earth it meant.

As later yet I roamed my way,
  A lovely steed neighed loud and long,
And an empty boat sped all afloat
  Where sang a fishermaid her song;
All underneath the prudent shade,
  Which yonder kindly willows threw,
Together strayed a youth and maid—
  I can’t explain it all, can you?