Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

WATER-SPRITES by CLINTON SCOLLARD

First Line: OVER THE HILL-SLOPES AND DOWN THROUGH THE HOLLOWS
Last Line: AND FINGERS ARE LITHE ON THE LOOM OF THE SPRING.
OVER the hill-slopes and down through the hollows
The silver-clad water-sprites rally and run;
As fleet are their feet as the wings of the swallows,
And whither they fare there's a gladness that follows
As fresh and as bright and as blithe as the sun.

And lo, at their touch there awakens, there kindles,
A subtle, pervasive, unnamable thing!
The blight upon beauty, like darkness it dwindles,
For the workers of wonder are whirling their spindles,
And fingers are lithe on the loom of the Spring.



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