I

My heart sank with our Claret-flask, Just now, beneath the heavy sedges That serve this pond's black face for mask; And still at yonder broken edges O' the hole, where up the bubbles glisten, After my heart I look and listen.

Our laughing little flask, compelled Through depth to depth more bleak and shady; As when, both arms beside her held, Feet straightened out, some gay French lady Is caught up from life's light and motion, And dropped into death's silent ocean!