I looked for my face in the crystal spring,
But the face that flickered there was a thing
To make the nape of your neck grow chill,
And every vein surge back and thrill
With a passion for something not their own--
In a life their life has never known.
For raven hair and eyes like the sun
Are merry but dour to look upon.
She smiled through her lashes under the wave,
And my soul went forth her bartered slave.
I swore, "By St. Louis, I'll come to thee,
Though I ride to my doom in the gulfs of the sea!
"Thy Kelpie rider shall wake and rue
His ruined life in the loss of you."
Then I fled in the start of a terror of joy,
O'er leagues where a legion might deploy;
For the acres of snow were level and hard,
Every flake like a crystal shard.
I was the runner of all Rochelle,
Could run with the hounds on Haric Fell;
And something stark as a gust of the sea
Had a grip of the whimsy boy in me.
I ran like the drift on the ice low curled
When the winds of Yule are abroad on the world.
Sudden, the beat of a throbbing sound
Lost in the core of the blue profound:
"Kelpie, Kelpie, Kelpie, come!"
Was it my heart?--But my heart was numb.
"Kelpie, Kelpie!" Was it the sea?
Far on, at the verge of Bareau lea,
I saw like an army, shield and casque,
The breakers roll in the Roads of Basque.
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