Statio Tertia

The stream is very sweet     To-day . . . Just see the swallow dart!     How fleet!     It sent a shiver to my heart.     If he had lived, you say,     Well, well, if he had lived, what then?     Some men     Will always argue, yes, I know . . . of course . .     The argument has force.     If he had lived, he might have changed,     From bad to worse?     Nay, my shrewd balance-setter,     Why not from good to better?     Why not to best? to joy     And splendour? O, my boy!     I did not want this argument in the least,     My soul had ceased     From doubt and questioning,     That swallows wing!     What a transcendent rush!     Hush! hush!     Or, if you talk, talk low:     For . . . do you know . . .     Just as the swallow dipt,     I felt as if a soft hand slipt     Its fingers into mine hes near     Hes with us . . . tis not right the child should hear     This jangling . . . low then, low!     Or this is better . . . go,     Go, darling; play upon the bank,     And prank     Your hair with daisy and with buttercup,     And we will meet you higher up.     Now then . . . If he had lived? if my sweet son     Had lived? . . . You stare . . .     There! there!     Tis gone, tis gone,     It was the swallows dart     That sent a shiver to my heart.