Pickthorn Manor: 11

Amy Lowell

He watched the fish against the blowing sky,
 Writhing and glittering, pulling at the line.
“The hook is fast, I might just let him die,”
 He mused.  “But that would jar against your fine
Sense of true sportsmanship, I know it would,”
 Cried Eunice.  “Let me do it.”  Swift and light
    She ran towards him.  “It is so long now
 Since I have felt a bite,
I lost all heart for everything.”  She stood,
Supple and strong, beside him, and her blood
    Tingled her lissom body to a glow.

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