Page:Poetical works of Mathilde Blind.djvu/467

Rh IV.— LOST TREASURE.

V.— THE AVON.

are the Willows whispering in a row.

Nodding their old heads o'er the river's edge?

What does the West wind whisper to the sedge

And to the shame-faced purples drooping low?

Why sobs the water, in its broken flow

Lapping against the grey weir's ruined ledge?

And, in the thorny shelter of the hedge,

What birds unloads his little heart of woe?