Classic Poem

I.

When the month is happy June,
And her horns forsake the moon —
When she greets us round and full,
Then we'll haunt the Holy-well pool.
Where I ween,
'Neath willow green,
Bright fins are ever gliding;
'Mong the reeds
And water-weeds,
They hold their wary hiding.

II.

Not by moonlight need we tread
Mossy bank or river-bed;
No living things 'neath moonlight prowl,
Save beetle and bat and solemn owl;
As she rides
The old trout hides,
Under the still bank deeper;
Nor sweet fly
Nor minnow sly
Can rouse the silent sleeper.

III.

Rather at morn-tide we shall go
To the Holy-well when the sun is low,
Ere the bee visits the new-burst flower
Or the noon breeze shakes the bower;
Then the trout
Sails round about
Beyond the osier bushes,
Or descries
His winged prize
Among the whispering rushes.

IV.

Then we'll seek the Holy-well,
Or when eve glides up the dell,
And the cushat all unseen
Coos among the larch-wood green
Stealing soft
Along the croft
We'll beat the shady water,
Till to rest
With arm opprest
Night turns us from the slaughter.