And Over The Lake Marge Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

And over the lake marge
She wandereth;
A-holding in her hand
A candle – the flame
So flickered in the wild wooing wind
That ran about the lake
Rippling it with waves


The lake – how raging white
It looked with rippling waves:
That foamed all white
The lake looked like a mouth
That foamed and foamed and foamed.

And over the lake marge
She wandereth;
And in the trees around
No bird singeth;
The nightingale mute looketh
From her rustling branch;
And on a thick oak branch
The owl all-ruffled resteth.


And all the world
Seemed to turn round
And round;
The moon seemed not
To smile
In its familiar white
But red it turneth
And like a fire-ball
It burneth;
And o’er the lake
A sudden red appears
As if a war occurred
And waters stained with blood
Ran everywhere.

And high on high
The azure heavens lost
The usual blue
And turned a streak of red
In the long fading background
In the lost distance
Where planets turned mysterious.

And down, and down below
The lady in crimson red
Now lonely walketh;
And in her hands
A candle flickers slow
With every pace
With every wind-gust

Life flickers on the wall, warm, here and there