The Woman by the Water

She stands within the stormy glow
Of sunset, with a face of snow,
The white embodiment of woe,
As night comes on:

She stands within the sombre glare
Of dusk, with dark neglected hair,
An apparition of despair,
When day is gone.

The haggard house within the vale
Looks spectral as a ragged sail
The Dutchman hoists against the gale
On haunted seas:

And in the garden,--one vast brake
Of dock and thistle,--snail and snake
Crawl; and the death-watch taps, awake
In rotting trees.

The stagnant stream along the night
Creeps, like a nightmare, where each white
Lily is an uneasy light,
A wisp up-tossed:

And through the cypress-trees and vines
The gray fox skulks and laps and whines;
The owl hoots; and the foxfire shines
In darkness lost.

She stands beside the stagnant stream;
Her garments drip at every seam;
She looks a shadow in a dream
Of dread and woe:

No star stares half so steadily
At earth as at the water she;
And what she sees there--it may be
The owlets know.