Little Fugue

Wind running over the reeds like water Reeds like sea-weed under the wind Bending and rising, under and over — So, in the wind of Time, the mind Seems to bow and recover Under the run of the river.

Like running water over the reeds Wind is pouring its weight of air: The way of Time, like a stream, With rush and rest proceeds, A rush, and a rest, and a stir, And moods are water-weeds.

The bend and the rise, the rest and the rush, The rush and the reed, and the wind running over, The weigh and the wait of Time Under the run of the water Pouring forever—hush!— Forever and ever and ever.