OTHER WATER BORDERS 



heron on his hollow wings. Chill evenings 

 the mallard drakes cry continually from the 

 glassy pools, the bittern's hollow boom rolls 

 along the water paths. Strange and far- 

 flown fowl drop down against the saffron, 

 autumn sky. All day wings beat above it 

 hazy with speed ; long flights of cranes 

 glimmer in the twilight. By night one 

 wakes to hear the clanging geese go over. 

 One wishes for, but gets no nearer speech 

 from those the reedy fens have swallowed 

 up. What they do there, how fare, what 

 find, is the secret of the tulares. 



