Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By ElizabethStoddard

426 In the Still, Star-Lit Night

IN the still, star-lit night,

By the full fountain and the willow-tree,

I walked, and not alone—

A spirit walked with me!

A shade fell on the grass;

Upon the water fell a deeper shade:

Something the willow stirred,

For to and fro it swayed.

The grass was in a quiver,

The water trembled, and the willow-tree

Sighed softly; I sighed loud—

The spirit taunted me.

All the night long I walked

By the full fountain, dropping icy tears;

I tore the willow leaves,

I tore the long, green spears!

I clutched the quaking grass,

And beat the rough bark of the willow-tree;

I shook the wreathed boughs,

To make the spirit flee.

It haunted me till dawn,

By the full fountain and the willow-tree;

For with myself I walked—

How could the spirit flee?