A LITTLE reed has been enough To make the high grass shake and thrill, The willows tall, The meadow wide, The brooklet and the song thereof; A little reed has been enough To make the forest musical. The passers-by have heard the song In the deep evening, in their thoughts Whether in silence or in storm, Or faint or strong, Or near or far. . . . The passers-by in their own thoughts Hearing it, in their deepest souls Will hear it now forevermore -- A singing reed. It was enough -- This little reed once gathered of Reeds by the fountain where one day Love came to stay And see his grave Face sorrowing -- To make the passing people cry And grass and water tremble so; And I who on this reed could blow Have made the very forest sing. |