Spring-time, and sounds of the streaming water-fall;
Deep night, on shrunken hill-tops spreads her pall.
The moon steers through a maze of pines, and lo,
A thousand thrusting peaks are set aglow.
In the cold water the collected snow
Melts, and the frozen stream begins to flow.
The laughing girls slip homeward through the dark,
While sand-birds wheel around the fisher's barque.