Moonlight on the lake, And Lola, Pale, in cool silver, To break the uncertain silence Off shore. I watched a long moon-ray Tongueing The black smooth thing Of prismic lac She tells you Her hair is. Lola spoke, Lightly too, Of something she knew. . . . Oh, I wish I had not chanced This night In Lola's sight! The moon slants down Among the blown ripples. Out there, Beyond the shore's shelter, There's such a welter -- Silver and wave and white spray -- That who shall say Which long bright streak Is Lola's dress? Or which one Among the dark circles Untwining still in the silvery water, Is the brushed-back shining wing That was her hair? |