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Rh With a whirr and beat of pinions,

Rose up from the reedy islands,

From the water-flags and lilies.

And they said to Pau-Puk-Keewis:

"In your flying, look not downward,

Take good heed, and look not downward,

Lest some strange mischance should happen,

Lest some great mishap befall you!"

Fast and far they fled to northward,

Fast and far through mist and sunshine,

Fed among the moors and fen-lands,

Slept among the reeds and rushes.

On the morrow as they journeyed,

Buoyed and lifted by the South-wind,

Wafted onward by the South-wind,

Blowing fresh and strong behind them,

Rose a sound of human voices,

Rose a clamor from beneath them,

From the lodges of a village,

From the people miles beneath them.