All by the sides of the wide wild river Surging sad through the sodden land, There be the black reeds washing together-- Washing together in rain and sand; Going, blowing, flowing, together-- Rough are the winds, and the tide runs high-- Hush, little babe, in thy silken cradle-- Lull lull, lull lull, lull lullaby! Father is riding home, little baby, Riding home through the wind and rain; Flinty hoofs on the flag stems beating Thrum like a flail on the golden grain. All in the wild, wet reeds of the lowlands, Dashed and plashed with the freezing foam, There be the blood-red wings of the starlings, Shining to light and lead him home. Spurring hard o'er the grass-gray ridges-- Slacking rein in the low, wet land, Where be the black reeds washing together-- Washing together in rain and sand. Down of the yellow-throated creeper-- Plumes of the woodcock, green and black-- Boughs of salix, and combs of honey-- These be the gifts he is bearing back. Yester morning four sweet ground-doves Sung so gay to their nest in the wall-- Oh, by the moaning, and oh, by the droning, The wild, wild water is over them all! Come, O morning, come with thy roses, Flame like a burning bush in the sky-- Hush, little babe, in thy silken cradle-- Lull lull, lull lull, lull lullaby! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PROBLEM IN AESTHETICS by KAREN SWENSON PRIMROSE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS POE'S COTTAGE AT FORDHAM by JOHN HENRY BONER PLEAD FOR ME by EMILY JANE BRONTE THERE IS NO DEATH by JOHN LUCKEY MCCREERY THE LOST CHORD by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER |