On a fair, chilly autumn evening, the speaker and a companion set out with a pail and can because the well beside the door has run dry. They are glad for the errand: the fields are theirs, the woods wait by the brook, and the walk feels like play. They run toward the rising moon through bare, still trees, then hide in the wood “like gnomes,” suppressing laughter and listening. The poem turns on that hush—by listening together, they make a silence deep enough to hear the brook. What they find is delicate and musical: a “slender tinkling fall,” drops like pearls, a “silver blade.” The mood is quietly joyful, a little secretive, full of affection for the place and the shared adventure.
Going for Water — Summary
The well was dry beside the door, And so we went with pail and can Across the fields behind the house To seek the brook if still it ran;
Not loth to have excuse to go, Because the autumn eve was fair (Though chill), because the fields were ours, And by the brook our woods were there.
We ran as if to meet the moon That slowly dawned behind the trees, The barren boughs without the leaves, Without the birds, without the breeze.
But once within the wood, we paused Like gnomes that hid us from the moon, Ready to run to hiding new With laughter when she found us soon.
Each laid on other a staying hand To listen ere we dared to look, And in the hush we joined to make We heard, we knew we heard the brook.
A note as from a single place, A slender tinkling fall that made Now drops that floated on the pool Like pearls, and now a silver blade.