 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
IX.
My bell I ring; I pull a string:Now, Father Noah you mark—
Sleeping he lies, with heavy eyes,
All full of wine, and stark.
But now, behold! that good man old
A Voice in dream doth hark;
And the Voice cries, ‘O Noah, arise!
And build thyself an Ark.’
Again I ring; and pull a string;
And all is water blue,
Where, floating free, the Ark you see;
And this, God wot, is true.
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |