“Pour out your words
As a thundercloud pours rain,
For those who love you do attend,
In joy instead of vain.”

​

So warbled a Pebble of the Brook,
Worn away with swirls,
But a little Clod of Clay
Sung out breaths held furled,

“Hold back your words
As a hound heeds a hunter’s call,
For to love with dearness and care
You listen and follow them all.”