The stream that wore this little valley down Had patience of the unintelligent. It had no care of time. The living things That came on cautious feet, thirst-driven, intent On water and a waiting enemy, Blurred foot-prints of wild things that came before, And still the water ate into the shore. Death and decay and little running feet, And gray flat-headed snakes, swift, slippery, still In the cool water-cress, and iris sweet Shining through water like a drowned girl's eyes; And water, water, wearing down the hill. It's men who count, saying @3one, two, three, four;@1 It's beasts that fear, looking from left to right. Iris and cardinal-flower are now no more, Frost withered the wild rice, and wild ducks take their flight. The water-rat is dead with his teeth showing, Set like a vice -- but the stream doesn't care. The stream has centuries beyond our knowing To wear and wear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHARACTER OF A GOOD PARSON by GEOFFREY CHAUCER JEALOUS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THAT NATURE IS A HERACLITEAN FIRE & OF THE COMFORT OF THE RESURRECTION by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THREE KINGS OF ORIENT by JOHN HENRY HOPKINS JR. BREAK, BREAK, BREAK by ALFRED TENNYSON THE TWO POETS OF CROISIC by ROBERT BROWNING TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. CHINA, A.D. 1900 by EDWARD CARPENTER |