THE LAKE LAY BLUE BELOW THE HILL

Mary E. Coleridge 1861-1907

The lake lay blue below the hill,

O'er it, as I looked, there flew

Across the waters, cold and still,

A bird whose wings were palest blue.

The sky above was blue at last,

The sky beneath me blue in blue,

A moment, ere the bird had passed,

It caught his image as he flew.

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