XX
“But what’s the Thorn? and what’s the Pond?
And what’s the Hill of moss to her?
And what’s the creeping breeze that comes
The little Pond to stir?”
I cannot tell; but some will say
She hanged her baby on the tree;
Some say she drowned it in the pond,
Which is a little step beyond:
But all and each agree,
The little babe was buried there,
Beneath that Hill of moss so fair.