And Over The Lake Marge

And over the lake marge She wandereth; A-holding in her hand A candle – the flame So flickered in the wild wooing wind That ran about the lake Rippling it with waves The lake – how raging white It looked with rippling waves: That foamed all white The lake looked like a mouth That foamed and foamed and foamed. And over the lake marge She wandereth; And in the trees around No bird singeth; The nightingale mute looketh From her rustling branch; And on a thick oak branch The owl all-ruffled resteth. And all the world Seemed to turn round And round; The moon seemed not To smile In its familiar white But red it turneth And like a fire-ball It burneth; And o’er the lake A sudden red appears As if a war occurred And waters stained with blood Ran everywhere. And high on high The azure heavens lost The usual blue And turned a streak of red In the long fading background In the lost distance Where planets turned mysterious. And down, and down below The lady in crimson red Now lonely walketh; And in her hands A candle flickers slow With every pace With every wind-gust Life flickers on the wall, warm, here and there