The Blue Kingfisher

Where the little river gleaming
      Thro’ its shadows, green and cool,
  Broadens to the quiet dreaming
      Of a little shady pool;
  There an azure jewel burning
      O’er the waters you may spy,
  Never moving, never turning:
      ’Tis the silent fisher, I.

Head  aloft above the river,
      With an apathetic air,
  Not the smallest quirk nor quiver
      Warns you of my presence there.
  Mayhap you will think me sleeping—
      Dreaming summer days away—
  Till you mark a keen eye peeping
      Where the tell-tale eddies play.

Now a  dive, a sudden darting,
      Now a flash of gold and blue,
  And the placid waters parting
      Let my gleaming body thro’.
  Then, long ere the ripples, spreading,
      Circle to the pool’s green lip
  Back to safety I am heading;
      And the kill is in my grip.

So I haunt the cool, dark places
      By the river, from that hour
  When the dawn’s bright finger traces
      Fairy lights above my bower,
  Till the western hilltops redden,
      Fade, and vanish I am there.
  And, the far skies, growing leaden,
      Bid me seek my secret lair.