The Bog

In the bog, by the willow, I sat, breathing deep, My heart swelled with the shadow, And the silent sweep;

I saw the great streams of water Float by me, wavingly, And the wild flowers of spring, Dripping with tears of dew; A woodchuck played in the dust, A frog croaked through chance, And the winds swept through marshes, With a wild, subtle dance.

• Elizabeth Palmer Peabody