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I lay half hid by a mossy stone,
And looked in the water for flower and sky. I heard a step — I was not alone:
And a vision of loveliness met my eye.
I saw her come to the other side,
The apple-blossoms were not more fair; She stooped to gaze in the sunlit tide
Her eyes met mine in the water there.
She stopped in timid and mute surprise,
ween, But modestly dropping her dove-like eyes,
She turned her away to the meadow green.
I lay in wonder and rapture lost
At her slender form and her step so free, At her raven locks by the breezes tossed,
As she kicked up her heels in the air for glee.
The apple-blossoms are withered now,
But the sky, and the meadow, and stream are there; And whenever I wander that way I vow That some day I'll buy me that little black mare.
Charles Gurdon Buck