Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/16



Underneath a huge oak tree There was, of swine, a huge company, That grunted as they crunch'd the mast. For that was ripe, and fell full fast. Then they trotted away, for the wind grew high: One acorn they left, and no more might you spy. Next came a raven, that liked not such folly: He belonged, it was said, to the witch Melancholy! Blacker was he than blackest jet, Flew low in the rain, and his feathers not wet. He pick'd up the acorn and buried it strait By the side of a river both deep and great. Where then did the raven go? He went high and low, Over hill, over dale, did the black raven go.