Waterfall Sound

In the middle of the wood it starts,

Then over the wall and the meadow

And into our ears all day. But it departs—

Sometimes—like a shadow.

There is an instant when it grows

Too weak to climb a solid fence,

And creeps to find a crack. But the wind blows,

Scattering it hence

In whimpering fragments like the leaves

That every autumn drives before.

Then rain again in the hills—and the brook receives

It home with a roar.

From the middle of the wood again,

Over the wall and the meadow,

It comes one day to the minds of waiting men

Like a shadow.