e a statue, stiff, uncanny
And speaketh not at all.

And to and fro strides, cursing,
The ranger's red haired son,
With angry, scornful laughter
Flings to the wall his gun.

The beautiful spinner weepeth,
And moistens with tears her thread.
At her feet her father's pointer,
Whimpering, crouches his head.

VI.

When I met by chance in my travels
All my sweetheart's family,
Papa, mamma, little sister
Most cordially greeted me.

About my health they inquired;
Nor even did they fail
To say I was nowise altered,
Only a trifle pale.

I asked after aunts and cousins,
And many a dull old bore.
And after the dear little poodle,
That barked so softly of yore.

And how was my married sweetheart?
I asked them soon. They smiled,
And in friendliest tone made answer
She was soon to have a child.

And I lisped congratulations,
And begged, when they should see,
To give her the kindest greetings,
A thousand times for me.

Burst forth the baby-sister,
"That dear little dog of mine
Went mad when he grew bigger,
And we drowned him in the Rhine."

The child resembles my sweetheart,
The same old laugh has she;
Her eyes are the same ones over,
That wrought such grief for me.

VII.

We sat in the fisher's cabin,
Looking out upon the sea.
Then came the mists of evening,
Ascending silently.

The lights began in the lighthouse
One after one to burn,
And on the far horizon
A ship we could still discern.

We spake of storm and shipwreck,
The sailor and how he thrives,
And how betwixt heaven and ocean,
And joy and sorrow he strives.

We spake of distant countries,
South, North, and everywhere,
And of the curious people,
And curious customs there;

The fragrance and light of the Ganges,
That giant-trees embower,
Where a beautiful tranquil people
Kneel to the lotus flower;

Of the unclean folk in Lapland,
Broad-mouthed and flat-headed and small,
Who cower upon the hearthstone,
Bake fish, and cackle and squall.

The maidens listened gravely,
Then never a word was said,
The ship we could see no longer;
It was far too dark o'erhead.

VIII.

Thou fairest fisher maiden,
Row thy boat to the land.
Come here and sit beside me,
Whispering, hand in hand.

Lay thy head on my bosom,
And have