WITH caws and chirrupings, the woods <br />In this thin sun rejoice. <br />The Psalm seems but the little kirk <br />That sings with its own voice. <br /> <br />The cloud-rifts share their amber light <br />With the surface of the mere - <br />I think the very stones are glad <br />To feel each other near. <br /> <br />Once more my whole heart leaps and swells <br />And gushes o'er with glee; <br />The fingers of the sun and shade <br />Touch music stops in me. <br /> <br />Now fancy paints that bygone day <br />When you were here, my fair - <br />The whole lake rang with rapid skates <br />In the windless winter air. <br /> <br />You leaned to me, I leaned to you, <br />Our course was smooth as flight - <br />We steered - a heel-touch to the left, <br />A heel-touch to the right. <br /> <br />We swung our way through flying men, <br />Your hand lay fast in mine: <br />We saw the shifting crowd dispart, <br />The level ice-reach shine. <br /> <br />I swear by yon swan-travelled lake, <br />By yon calm hill above, <br />I swear had we been drowned that day <br />We had been drowned in love.<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/duddingstone/
