'NEATH the shadow of a forest,

Where the breezes murmured low,

And a merry, laughing brooklet

Wound its way to fields below;

Where the spray-drops, lightly dashing,

Danced and flirted in the air,

Stood a ledge of rock, o'erhanging,

Fair to view, a grotto there.

Underneath 't was clean and mossy,

Cool and shady all about,

While a little pool beside it

Sheltered many a speckled trout.

And it happened that a maiden,

Fair as maiden e'er could be,

Sat there idly in the sunset,

Deep in Hugo's "Ninety-Three."