 | The wind in the trees |  |
92
FLOOD
Across the vale the floods are out,
The floods are out with rush and rout,
Across the world the floods are out,
The land is in the sea.
And round the oak-tree that displays
The bronze-bright head in wintry days,
The roaring current swings and sways,
Shouting his song of glee.
The floods are out with rush and rout,
Across the world the floods are out,
The land is in the sea.
And round the oak-tree that displays
The bronze-bright head in wintry days,
The roaring current swings and sways,
Shouting his song of glee.
And landsmen now are watermen,
The robin as the water-hen,
That makes her nest in reed and fen,
The robin's gone afloat.
The wind that rocks him to and fro
With a soft cradle-song and slow,
Pleases him in the ebb and flow,
Rocking him in a boat.
The robin as the water-hen,
That makes her nest in reed and fen,
The robin's gone afloat.
93
With a soft cradle-song and slow,
Pleases him in the ebb and flow,
Rocking him in a boat.
Flotsam and jetsam whirling by
The bridge where lovers meet and sigh,
The whirling crows flap wings and cry,
And praise themselves that they
Have built their homes, one story each,
In the tall masts of elm and beech,
And them no swelling flood can reach
Till all the world be grey.
The bridge where lovers meet and sigh,
The whirling crows flap wings and cry,
And praise themselves that they
Have built their homes, one story each,
In the tall masts of elm and beech,
And them no swelling flood can reach
Till all the world be grey.
| The wind in the trees | |