From further in the hills there came A river to our kitchen door To be the water of the house And keep a snow-white kitchen floor. The fall we made the river take To catch the water in a dish (It wasn't deep enough to dip) Was good for us, but not for fish. For when the trout came up in spring And found a plunging wall to pass, It meant, unless they met it right, They glanced and landed in the grass. I recollect one fingerling That came ashore to dance it out; And if he didn't like the death, He'd better not have been a trout. I found him faded in the heat. But there was one I found in time And put back in the water where He wouldn't have the fall to climb. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DORA WILLIAMS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SUNDAY NIGHT by LOUIS UNTERMEYER CORRYMEELA by NESTA HIGGINSON SKRINE WILL (1) by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX THE SAD SHEPHERD by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 79. AL-TAWWAB by EDWIN ARNOLD |