Pickthorn Manor: 07

Amy Lowell

The Lady Eunice caught a willow spray
 To save herself from tumbling in the shallows
Which rippled to her feet.  Then straight away
 She peered down stream among the budding sallows.
A youth in leather breeches and a shirt
 Of finest broidered lawn lay out upon
    An overhanging bole and deftly swayed
 A well-hooked fish which shone
In the pale lemon sunshine like a spurt
Of silver, bowed and damascened, and girt
    With crimson spots and moons which waned and played.

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